A Star Out Of Reach
by Venea01
Summary: Legolas falls in love but since when is anything in life easy for that elf? Now he has to choose between two women who are both desperately in love with him. What will he do, when to choose one is to break the other’s heart? see also Shadows of Eterntity
1. At First Sight

**I apologise that it has taken me so long to repost this and that I have only reposted one chapter, but it's a start! I will try and repost all the rest as soon as possible. Please note that only the paragraphs have changed, not the text. Thank you.**

**Disclaimer: Okay, here goes… I do not own anything in this story except the characters of Vēnea, Aswen, Keldarion and Estel and the plot line. It was written in tandem so some ideas belong to my co-author. Everything that you recognise belongs to J.R.R. Tolkein and some inferences refer to the Mellon Chronicles by Cassia and Siobhan. I think that's it… Oh yeah, and I'm making no profit from this; nada, zilch, so please, if anything upsets you, don't sue me. Thank you and now that that's over with, on with the story!**

**Summary: Legolas falls in love but since when is anything in life easy for that elf? Now he has to choose between two women who are both desperately in love with him. What will he do, when to choose one is to break the other's heart? Written from the POV of Vēnea. Read also 'Shadows of Eternity' from Oselle's POV. Please also note that the stories differ entirely from chapters 3/4 onwards, leaving the reader to decide which ending they prefer.**

**Part One **

**At First Sight**

Now would you mind if I bared my soul

_If I came right out and said you're beautiful_

_Because there's something I can't explain_

_I feel I'm diving into driving rain_

_You get my senses running wild_

_I can't resist your sweet, sweet smile_

_So take this feeling and make it grow_

_Never let it – never let it go_

_Bryan Adams – Don't Let Go_

The orc swung his blade in a lethal strike aimed at my neck that would certainly have severed it in one swift blow had not the split second's warning of a cracking twig alerted me to his presence. Ducking low I brought my blade around in an arching sweep swiping the legs out from underneath my opponent and dropping him to the floor. Raising my sword with speed that surprised even myself I plunged the blade deep into it's heart and turned away quickly not wanting to see the spark of life fade from the eyes of any creature living, even an orc.

I pivoted, moving myself as far away as possible from the still form and wiped the back of my hand in an extended motion over my brow, hoping to clean away the stains of sweat and blood that had accumulated there and now dripped down into my eyes, threatening to obscure my vision completely.

I neatly side-stepped another warring pair that began their battle mere feet ahead of the point where I stood and my eyes scoured the battle field for the only familiar face in a sea of hostility. My companion was nowhere to be seen, but even in the brief moment that I had taken my attention from my immediate surroundings an orc had crept up unnoticed inside my defences, with a cry of terror and dismay I threw myself forward and hopefully out of the way of the fatal arch of the blade.

Blinding agony engulfed all my senses as the steel burned a gash onto the inside of my left shin and I writhed to face my opponent. The stench of orc filled my nostrils and I resisted the urge to gag at the sight before me. The most hideous face I had ever seen stared into mine, the orc stood, fresh blood dripping from the hideous crevices on it's face and an evil sneer perpetually carved onto it's twisted features.

I heaved in my breath and battled with the overwhelming instinct to scream, instead, schooling my features to blankness, I whipped my sword up level with his face and feinted towards the right, ignoring the burning protest from my shin as I did so.

The orc fell for my tactic and changed his stance to deliver a blow to my arm and so throw off my attack. Planting my feet firmly beneath me I halted my motion and thrust my sword forward in a single powerful blow. It should have been unavoidable. My sword plunged heavily into thin air, the force of my strike pulling me with it; I stumbled and struggled to regain my composure turning just quickly enough to see the orc straighten from the crouch he had dropped into. His motions were swift and deliberate and within two strides he towered over me, sweat and blood mingling in droplets that fell glutinously onto my exposed neck.

Part determination that the jeering face of an orc would not be the last thing I saw and part fear made me close my eyes and drawing in one last desperate breath I tried vainly to prepare myself for the sharp bite of steel. I felt the cold sting of air as something swept past my face cutting a smooth line along my cheek. Pain where I had not expected it forced me to open my eyes and I let out the breath I'd been holding as the orc slumped forward on top of me an arrow protruding from his stomach, his eyes glazed in shock.

A slender pale hand reached down to help me up from the position I had fallen into and I gazed gratefully into the Elven face of my companion, "Osellë!" I gasped, as I was pulled none too gently to my feet. " What took you so long?" I questioned some of my normal cheerful spirit returning as the dread I had felt began to drain away. My efforts were not rewarded as Osellë merely returned my gratified grin with an irritated scowl. Fortunately I had come to know her well enough these past few days to interpret that scowl for the concern it really was.

"Foolish mortal!" she chided me, "Do not make the mistake of thinking that associating with elves makes you one of them! You can be killed far easier than you would like to think and I would not lose you so soon." Her words were accompanied by a slight shake of the head and emotions glinted in her eyes that spoke more than words ever could. I bowed my head slightly, unsure of how to respond. The wound in my leg ached dully and I had not meant to alarm my companion.

" I did not mean to be bested by an orc, and I apologise if I alarmed you, but you see he caught me off guard and-" Osellë cut me off her eyes shining as dark humour glinted in their depths.

" You are beginning to make a habit out of this," she teased, " I have a feeling it will not be long before all my time on this battlefield is spent keeping you out of mischief!" My former grin returned and I was about to respond when she turned away from me suddenly dropping to the ground in a ready for action stance. I tensed and tried vainly to pick upon on whatever it was she had sensed, but my senses were no match for that of an elf and the danger so far eluded me.

"There is a disturbance to the East. I can hear horns calling for aid, something is coming…" before I had chance to question her further Osellë had grasped my sleeve and was pulling me with her at an Elven pace towards the shore.

My raven hair bobbed along, carried playfully by the breeze as we hastened towards the beach. Oft and anon I had been told I had my father's hair, but I rather fancied it to be more like my mother's. Although at first glance it seemed to be a deep black-brown I, and those who knew me well, knew that when it caught the light it shone as red as if it was on fire. My blue eyes had also been described as burning, but I had a feeling it was more the boys trying to flatter me than the truth. Even so, as we sped on towards the sandy shores not so far ahead, I caught a glimpse of myself in a puddle and my gaze was met with that of a fiery eyed brunette whose hair was glowing red in the late afternoon sun.

As we neared the borders of the shore the blasts on the horn began also to reach my ears and I tried to move faster in order to crest the ridge that blocked all view of the beach and whatever new danger we were headed to face. We struggled over the hill Osellë trying to pull me faster as my ungainly pace slowed our climb.

Not for the first time I came to wonder what could possibly have brought the Rivendell elf to support a human such as myself. Osellë's lustrous dark hair whipped into my face as a slight sea breeze caught it and her deep brown eyes scanned what mine could not for signs of danger. I marvelled her gracefulness, her movements held a fluidity that mine could never hope to match and her slender body deceived the eye of her great strength. She was taller than I was and her proud bearing made her seem taller still.

Any onlooker without knowledge of elves would have supposed her to be, as she looked, a beautiful, slender seventeen-year-old girl with eyes that seemed too old for her years. But it was the eyes that held the truth, for I knew my companion to be a two thousand year old elf whose beauty and grace matched a swift temper and a keen knowledge of all things.

But all such thoughts were stripped away with the sight that greeted me when we crested the slope. Ship upon ship was moored against the sandy dunes that rose to meet the sea, men had arrived, bringing with them more armies to join our battle and supplies to tend the wounded. My heart sang, such tidings would be a grievous blow to the orcs and already the beach was clear of them.

My eyes drifted in joy over the sight of so many new soldiers and supplies, lingering here and there as they took in new sights. I sucked in my breath as I sighted a figure at the head of one of the ships. He stood tall, slender hands gripping the wood, his eyes focused down on the beach in concern, the odd strand of hair flying free to float across his face. He was without doubt the most beautiful man I had ever seen. That, I decided, had to be a King.

Nudging Oselle with my elbow I directed her look to the man and was gratified by the intake of breath she took when her eyes lighted upon him. "Is he not handsome?" I whispered, "Surely that must be a King, no man should be as beautiful as he without Royal permission!" Her response was something I did not expect, she gave out the closest thing to a snort I have ever heard from an elf and turned to me with a look of vague amusement,

"That is not a King, though you are close" she replied," It is Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of the Woodland Realm. Though I admit he is handsome in a way that should be restricted, for it's effect on women in the past has been quite catastrophic!" I gave a snort of my own in derision, I had never before heard of this Elven Prince and I was determined that I should not fall prey to his enticing appearance, though the very sight of him held me in awe.

I noticed Osellë's eyes were locked onto his, her mouth silently forming words. His eyes were in return locked onto to hers as he silently replied. I for one could not make out a word she was saying, so when she dropped her eyes and looked away it registered that their conversation was over and I seized the opportunity to question her.

"What was said?" I inquired quietly; Osellë turned to face me and answered in kind. " He told me he was here with two friends, a human, Estel, and a Dwarf, name of Gimli. In return I told him your name, though I do not think he knew of whom I spoke. Maybe he cannot see you from the ship." The conversation over, I returned to staring at the Prince's back.

Tearing my gaze away by sheer force of will I took a faltering step over the side of the hill. I progressed no further before a cry from behind me caused me to spin on my heel. Spinning on the spot my sudden turn surprised the orc who had crept up on me while I was distracted with thoughts of the Elven Prince and he over-balanced and rolled down the hill where he was skewered by the swords of the men on the beach. A terrible voice whispered thickly in my ear,

"You'll pay for that stinking human!" followed by a trail of words that I did not understand, but took to be curses in some dark tongue. Getting my balance as best I could on the uneven ground I brought up my sword in a desperate parry, but the return blow of the orc drove me to my knees.

My arms trembled with the strain of staving off the orc's blow, and I risked a glance behind my opponent. With horror I saw that an entire party of orcs had followed us up the hill with intent to launch a surprise attack on the newly docked ships. Oselle and I had lost them the element of surprise and the orcs would take their retribution now.

Turning my sword to catch the curve of the orcish blade, I gave a sharp twist so the weapon flew beyond the orc's grasp. Thinking he could easily be defeated now, the tip of my blade wavered, drooping slightly as the aching feeling returned to my arms. This was all the distraction the orc needed and he backhanded me viciously with his steel-gloved hands.

I flew backwards, my vision blurring and conscious thought floating on the brink of oblivion. Through the haze I saw the orc stand over me, his blade returned to his grasp and hovering over my heart. "Vēnea!" I turned hearing Oselle scream my name – but her voice sounded distant and, held down by at least four orcs, she could not reach me. This time I was dead for sure.

* * *

Strands of hair blew over Legolas' face and he swiped them away in annoyance. The conversation with his friend, Oselle, had lightened his heart, but still, such carnage had been wrought here and so many had died. Distant noises of fighting reached his ears to the West and he snapped his head around to see two lone figures struggling with over twenty orcs. Leaping effortlessly from the prow of the boat, he landed catlike and hastened towards their position, ignoring Gimli's shouts of, "What's that elf up to now?" from behind him.

* * *

I remained still. Willing the blow to be fast and true, I awaited the strike that I was certain would fall. Nothing disturbed the air around me and when the agony of waiting became too much I opened my eyes to slits, praying that this was not some cruel orc trick. For the second time that day an orc slumped dead to the ground in front of me, an arrow protruding from his front.

I blinked in surprise, not trusting myself to move in case it was some kind of fear-induced mirage. Any doubts I might have had to the reality of my situation were dispelled moments later when I was hoisted with force to my feet. Assuming my rescuer to be Osellë I grinned and began to form some kind of witty comment when I caught sight of the hand on my arm. It was pale and slender, but I did not recognise it to be Osellë's.

Another elf then, but I was not aware that there were any other elves on the battlefield, and certainly none with motive to save me. It was with some annoyance that I turned to face my unknown rescuer, but the words caught in my throat. It was none other than the Prince himself at my elbow! I jerked my arm free somewhat rougher than I intended and turned my face away to hide my growing blush. He laughed and began to speak softly in my ear,

"Fear not! We all need rescuing at some point, and I think you no less of a man to have needed my aid." I started in shock. The Prince thought me a man! I was about to turn and correct his mistake when the hand on my elbow tightened suddenly and I was yanked just in time out of the path of a thundering Oliphant! When I turned the Prince was already halfway up the leg of the great beast and I did not think the time was right to correct his grievous mistake just then.

I whirled as a scream to my right tore through my consciousness and dread pulled at my heart. I watched as an orc sank his blade deeply into the side of my friend, driving her to her knees. My reflexes were not quick enough to reach her, but thankfully someone else's were. Osellë fainted into the Prince's arms and a flash of jealousy crossed my mind before being doused with reason. I made it to the side of the Prince and I could almost feel my pupils widening as I took in the extent of Osellë's wound.


	2. No Escape

**Part Two **

**No Escape**

_The future ain't determined _

_The present comes and goes_

_Life's a game of ultimate chance_

_With an outcome no one knows_

_But there's a shadow on my tail_

_A hurt so deep and wide_

_The dim recollection of yesterday brings_

_A past from which I cannot hide_

Vēnea – Can't Hide from the Past

I waited on the outskirts of the camp, while the one known as Estel tended to the wounds of my friend. I dared not go any closer, the leering faces and sheer bulk of the men who occupied this camp frightened me. I continued my vigil, vainly wishing none of this had happened and Oselle and I were in our own camp a hundred metres to the South. I hunched miserably against the wooden tent supports and tried to blend in with the tent material, hoping to go unnoticed by these soldiers. So preoccupied was I with my camouflage that I failed to notice the approaching figure.

* * *

With some trepidation Legolas approached the trembling figure. This boy seemed barely weaned yet there he was fighting in one of the ugliest battles Legolas had seen in all of his many years. The precise age was hard to determine without seeing his face, but Legolas would have guessed him to be about seventeen. With a sigh Legolas reached out a hand to touch the boy. Just a child...

* * *

I leapt away from the sudden contact and span on my heel, attempting to flee in any direction just to get away. Strong hands grabbed me from behind and something inside snapped as I panicked at the restrictive touch.

* * *

This was not the response Legolas had been expecting at all. The fear in the human's eyes alarmed him and with a sudden revelation Legolas realised that this was no boy. It was a terrified young girl and the elf kicked himself for not noticing sooner, or at least suspecting by her response when they entered the camp of men. He could now understand the response she was giving and he wrapped his arms about her waist and began trying to calm her fears.

* * *

A quiet voice began whispering to me in Elvish and I recognised the words Oselle had spoken every night since we met,

"It is alright. Fear not, I am near, I will not let any harm come to you." I relaxed into his grip, as it was now obvious I was not going to get out of it and allowed myself to be lowered gently to the floor. Warily I turned to face him and once again found myself staring into the mesmerising blue, grey eyes of the Prince of Mirkwood.

"I am Vēnea," I whispered not trusting myself to speak loudly, lest my voice betray me and tremble. " I came here with my friend, Oselle, the elf your healer is tending." The Prince gave a slight nod, but his intense gaze never left mine and I could fell my heart rate quickening.

"I know," came his soft reply, "I was there. You were not injured yourself I hope?" I shook my head in the negative and he straightened slightly from his crouch in relief. "Come, " he said locking his hand around my wrist and helping me to stand, "This camp is no place for young women, you shall sleep with my friends and I tonight. Osellë will be resting there too."

I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding at his statement, and unconsciously slid my hand into his and gave it a small squeeze in thanks. He glanced down at our interlaced fingers and I tried to pull out, thinking I had done wrong, but he tightened his own grip, giving me a small smile and holding my hand firmly in place.

I relaxed against him, letting the tension that had accumulated in me throughout the day ebb away. He must have noticed this change in me for he shifted stance slightly, bringing his arm under my shoulders to give extra support. I frowned at this change in position, not wanting to let him think I was weak and couldn't stand alone. He let out a laugh at my expression and turned towards me as we walked,

"As I said before, I do not think you weak for needing my help and I see it a privilege to be the one to escort such a beautiful young lady to our humble camp." The merriment twinkling in his eyes was contagious and I could not help but laugh as he lowered me gently onto a pile of cloaks amassed in the corner of a tent. "This the tent of my friend Estel, the healer you saw before. You will be with he and Oselle in here." He explained as he fussed with the cloaks, arranging them so that they covered my legs and torso.

I let out a snort and graced him with my blackest look as I noticed what I took to be his coddling. He laughed once more and rocked back on his heels, "Vēnea, I think you and I are more alike than we seem!" with one final, warm smile he left me there, and headed back to help the healer tend to Osellë. I closed my eyes dreamily and wondered how his lips would feel on mine. My last thought before sleep claimed me was of his entrancing eyes and they way they danced when he laughed.

* * *

_The house was burning. Flaming timber crashed to the ground in front of me and my starved lungs that gasped for air were filled once more with acrid smoke. I tried to draw breath to scream, to cry out for help, but my strength had all but fled me._

_I stumbled through the hell of flames and clouds of dark smoke that drifted across my vision like remnants of a nightmare after waking, my thoughts bound on one quest. Mother. The orcs had come, they had taken her and set torches to the house. Where was she? Had they killed her? A curse on them if they had, a thousand curses, each more terrible than the last._

_I stumbled on, fear and revenge fuelling my desperation. I gained the door and flung it open my lungs gagging for a taste of the air they craved. I took several deep breaths. A cry from my left had me spinning in a moment. I turned to see my mother fall, collapsing to the floor her blood pooled around her like an incoming tide, seeping slowly into the earth._

_This struck me more than any physical blow. Falling to me knees pain radiated through every fibre of my being. The orcs spotted me and began to laugh. I half hoped they would finish me, send me to follow where my mother already trod. At that moment I would have welcomed death._

_An orc sprang up unseen behind me and cuffed me hard with the pommel of its sword. The ground reached up to meet me and I fell gladly into the darkness._

_I flew into an upright position the last notes of a scream dying on my lips. Not even in sleep could I escape my past, or the very reason I had set out for this battle. Orcs had taken my mother and now I would take as many of them as I could to make up for her loss. But deep down I knew that it would not change the grief itself and one day I would have to face up to that. But not today. Right now I wanted nothing more than to sleep._

I curled up on the hard ground beneath me, but sleep did not come. Loneliness and bone-deep cold filtered through me and I tried edging closer to Osellë for warmth. But her wounds prevented me from getting too close and I eyed the ranger with some trepidation.

With a sigh I snatched up the nearest blanket to me and tucked it around my shoulders, making my way to the entrance of the tent. Stepping briskly into the chilly night air I made my way swiftly to the tent where I knew Legolas lay. Cautiously sliding back the outer flap I stepped inside. A dwarf lay, curled into a ball, at the far side, but laying to my right was Legolas. He was positioned on his back, his fair hair falling enchantingly around his shoulders, his eyes were open. This made me jump, I took a step backwards opening my mouth to explain myself when I noticed his gaze was not fixed on me. Rather, he seemed to be staring vacantly, his breathing deep and regular. Could it be that he actually slept? Cautiously I dropped to his side and waved my fingers in front of his face. His gaze did not alter. Satisfied that he slept I flopped onto my side beside him and snuggled in close, drawing the cloak about me for comfort, I closed my eyes and drifted easily into sleep.

* * *

Awareness returned to Legolas slowly. He knew that there was someone sleeping close to him on his right. He chuckled, if it was the dwarf then he was never going to live this down. Glancing down, he was astonished to note that it was in fact Vēnea who slept curled so close. He stilled his movements immediately, not wanting to wake the girl. He began to wonder what events had transpired during the night that led to her coming to sleep in his tent. With a small smile he reached over to tenderly push away the tendrils of dark hair that fell across her pretty face. She reminded him of someone though he could not say whom… When Vēnea stirred beneath his hand he moved slightly so that he could hold her close. For some reason he could not comprehend he wanted nothing to alarm the girl.

* * *

I tossed my head to one side. I could feel that I was encased in someone's arms and they were speaking to me softly. Whoever that someone was I felt incredibly safe and happy where I was and I almost wanted to remain there, in that half-asleep state forever and so avoid the sharp bite as reality kicked back in. Unfortunately, reality was unavoidable and the world began to regain focus, as did the face above me.

With a little shock of surprise I found that I rested in the arms of Legolas Greenleaf and it was he who spoke to me so softly. In that instant I opened my mouth and began to stutter out an apology, "My Lord! I did not realise you were awake or that I had slept so long. I did not intend-"My words were cut off as he laid one slender finger over my lips a smile playing around his features. "I do not mind," were his soft words and I noted that he had not yet relinquished his hold on me. With further surprise I realised that I was glad. "What I would know, is how I came to hold you in my arms this fair morning. I had been under the impression that you slept in a different tent." The smile remained and I hoped that that meant his words had only been in jest. "I had a nightmare my Lord, "I whispered fully aware of how pathetic that sounded. " I was disturbed and I had hoped you wouldn't mind…" My words trailed off and I stared dejectedly at the side of the tent waiting for the reprimand. It never came. "Then you read me well, I do not mind. And please, my name is Legolas." I could not stop the unbelievably wide grin that consumed me features as his words sank in. "Now, tell me of your nightmare." His words were final and they carried all the authority of a Prince. I began to speak, "I dreamt of the night my mother died." My voice was soft and low but Legolas did not seem to have to strain to hear my words so I continued in that tone.

"Orcs came to our house. They dragged her out and trapped me inside while they set fire to the building. I found my way out alive, but I was too late, they had already killed my mother. Osellë found me there some days later, still holding her body. I refused to leave until she told me of a chance to gain my retribution on orc kind. She was beautiful you know, "I whispered, Legolas seemed momentarily lost by my abrupt change of subject, but it was not long before understanding shone in his eyes. " Your mother, " I gave a barely perceptible nod. " She was important to you, was she not?" He questioned softly. I graced him with a look of mild incredulity, "What mother is not important to her child?" Legolas nodded as if it was the answer he had been expecting. "It is hard to lose a parent, a mother especially, as they play such an important role in our lives. I am truly sorry for your loss." There was a strange note to Legolas' voice; almost a tremor in the sound and my worry and curiosity was piqued. "Do you speak of some personal tragedy?" I questioned carefully, unwilling to hurt him if I could help it. He gave me a wordless smile and only the barest inclination of his head. "It was a long time ago but some wounds never really heal." He whispered. "I had thought I had forgotten it, but you seem to be stirring all kinds of forgotten emotions in me, young Venea."

His sentence ended and he stared off into middle distance, looking pensive. I was in a mild state of shock. What did he mean 'I stir emotions in him'? What kind of emotions? Surely that was a sentence that deserved an explanation! I sat there and waited for a continuation of his sentence but none seemed forthcoming. I felt a sudden sense of desperation, without fully understanding his sentence my own feelings were in disarray. If he was trying to say that he liked me, then… it was not very eloquently put, but it would do. I was now unsure how to react, what to say? I settled for turning over to face him and looked directly into his eye, trying to read his feelings there. That garnered his attention and he turned to look at me in puzzlement. There was nothing there, no emotion for me. Just a void. He made a move to read my eyes but I turned away, horribly embarrassed, leaving him facing the back of my head.

"I have offended you." It was a statement sounding equally sorry and worried. "It was not my intent. I realise humans are not so open with their emotions, but I was not trying to say that I was interested in you, in that way." My eyes widened even further. That was far worse! I bet this is what he does with all the girls! Osellë had said his effect on women was 'catastrophic'. He was playing with me! Sitting there with those impossibly blue eyes and breath-takingly handsome face and he had the nerve to accuse me of stirring emotions! I huffed out a breath at the sheer cheek of the elf. Now he was going to think that I was in love with him! I felt like telling him I'd rather be romantically attached to a warg! The floating feeling in my stomach and the blush on my cheeks whenever he spoke to me were telling another story but I tried to convince myself that that was beside the point. "Your opinion on my romantic feelings does you no credit, my Lord." I said coldly, shifting away from him and rising to my feet. He followed suit, rising to his feet also.

"Vénea, I did not mean…" he began, but I did not want to listen and instead made a break for the opening of the tent. Legolas sprang after me, catching up before I could even take another step. "Let me explain…" he tried again, but I shook my head. " There is nothing to explain my Lord." I said, holding back tears and minimising the shaking in my voice. "I fully understand. Now please let me leave." He looked lost for a moment and I wondered fleetingly if I had misjudged the situation, but that thought fled the second he moved aside to let me out. I ran, without a backward glance. He must have thought me easy, going into his tent in the night like that. I wiped away an angry tear. If I had only looked back things might have been different as I would have seen Legolas wiping away a tear of his own.

I spent two full days avoiding Legolas. Repeatedly he came up to me, trying to say… something, but I refused to listen. What could he possibly have to say that would make any difference? Aragorn tried to plead his case to me, but I made my excuses and fled. I couldn't deal with building up anymore enemies right now, not with the eve of battle so close. I shook my head slightly, hoping to clear the web of confusion from it. I needed to enter this battle with a clear head if I was to stay alive. I felt someone coming up behind me; I paused momentarily, hoping vainly that it was a fully recovered Osellë. The voice told me otherwise when I heard it, a few moments later. "Vénea, you need to hear me out." I held back a sob. Was he deliberately torturing me? I had been truly obsessed with the Prince of Mirkwood and he had shattered my hopes utterly. Now I was not even being allowed enough time to move on from it! "What do you want?" I gasped wearily, not with anger, or even with resentment, I had cried all that out of me long ago, just with a bitter weariness that seemed even worse. "You misunderstood my intentions!" He cried, sounding the nearest to desperate that I had ever heard. Something within me moved and I felt myself freeze, turning slowly to face him. "What was there to misunderstand?" I asked, my manner still cold, but I was giving him an opening. He looked quietly relieved. "I was not interested in you in a physical way that was what I feared may have offended you. In another capacity, I think…" I held my breath, willing his next words not to shatter the impression his previous ones had created. "I think that I really want to get to know you better." I gave a little shriek, yes, a shriek. But that was nothing, it was all I could do not to scream the camp down in sheer delight.

I launched on him, forgetting briefly the reserve which elves often show when speaking with others. I had learned that from the few times I had tried to hug Osellë. But Legolas seemed a little more accustomed to it, at least when I hugged him round the chest, he wrapped his arms around me in a hesitant manner and patted me almost gingerly on the back. I presumed Aragorn had given him some context of the normal mortal ways to show affection so had more experience with hugs than Osellë had been given chance to. I released him with some embarrassment, wondering whether I had been too bold, but the grin on his face told me otherwise. I responded in kind, grinning back widely, if a bit shyly. He leaned forward and gave me a polite kiss on the cheek, "We will talk about this later," he promised and left. I watched him go, feeling a new sensation bubble up inside me. Later we would need to do a lot of talking. I had a funny feeling this could be love.

"It is time. " I spun at the soft words behind me and a delighted smile crossed my face as I sighted Osellë, "You live!" I cried joyfully as I ran to my friend. "I should very much hope so or you would presently be hugging a ghost and that would do your boyfriend's opinion of your mental health irreparable damage" retorted Osellë. I flinched, both at her comment and at her mention of Legolas as my boyfriend; did she know of our talk the previous night? I gazed into her eyes and was certain I saw some masked emotion there, whether jealousy or joy I could not tell, but just as quickly as I sensed it, it vanished. "Well, are we headed out to war today or not?" questioned Osellë, humour glinting in her dark eyes. "We most certainly are, if you feel up to the challenge," I responded, knowing full well what kind of response that would garner. I ducked her light returning blow and skipped out of reach. "With you watching my back I'm sure I'll be just fine," she replied, sarcasm evident in her tone, but she gave me a small smile to let me know it was only a joke. I laughed at her response and slung my arm over her shoulder, looking just quick enough to see Legolas glancing sheepishly away from me. A small smile of my own appeared. Gathering my weapons from the spot I where I had abandoned them I felt a lightness in my heart that lessened slightly my internal dread at the situation I was about to face. Though my situation was perilous I had people around me who I could not leave to walk alone. Drawing my blade I studied it carefully. It would be my task today to watch over them and protect them from the orcs. I stifled a laugh as I realised in their opinions I was the one who would need protecting. Turning swiftly I faced the battlefield ahead and prepared to embrace my destiny, whatever it may be.


	3. Never Leave Me

**Part Three **

**Never Leave Me**

_All this time I can't believe I couldn't see_

_Kept in the dark but you were there in front of me_

_I've been sleeping a thousand years it seems_

_Got to open my eyes to everything_

_Without a thought, without a voice, without a soul_

_Don't let me die here, there must be something more_

_Bring me to life_

_**Evanescence – Bring me to Life** _

I was not doing so well. The tremendous ranks of the orcs around me caused my heart to clench in fear and I could feel their dark stain closing in all around. In was with a shock of horror that I realised I had been cut off from the rest of the allied fighters and orcs pressed close on every side. I struggled desperately to fight back the waves of despair that threatened to rise above my head and drown me in desolation. Bringing up my sword in a defensive position I decided that if I were to die, I would die fighting and not give in to these foul beasts until they ceased my heart to beat. Letting loose my battle cry I whirled, parried, drove, stabbed and hacked. The ranks of orcs about me began to draw back, but for every orc I slew another took it's place and I was tiring quickly. The constant motion was taking its toll on my almost-healed leg and I felt as the wound reopened and a hot trickle of blood ran down my leg. I tried hard to stifle the moan, but I lost my battle with my emotions and it burst out, a lot louder that I would've liked. My breath began to come in shallow, ragged gasps as an orc caught me across the chest and I doubled over, not even trying to stifle my scream. My vision began to haze, and when I looked down my entire body seemed covered in a wash of red and I wondered if I was truly bleeding that badly. A strange feeling had come over me, as if I was just a spectator to my own demise and none of it really affected me. This oddly detached feeling only increased as I dimly noticed the orcs around me begin to fall. My legs could no longer support my weight and I fell in what felt to be slow motion to my knees, the dull thud resounding slowly through my body. I allowed my head to fall forward, dimly trying to battle the waves of pain that attempted to force me into unconsciousness and watched as the ground beneath me began to swirl and form itself into grotesque patterns that reminded me of fire and blood. The flames crackled and over their noise I heard Oselle's voice call my name, but I could muster no strength to reply and it occurred to what remained of my logical mind that she must've been responsible for the reduction in orcs. The flames grew and my entire world honed down to silence and fire. In that realm with no sound I somehow forgot why or what I was fighting and consciousness flew. In the last few seconds I felt arms around me and forced myself to focus on the face that swam beyond my vision. In the instant that I recognised it, my reason to fight returned, but too late. The darkness came and I slipped away.

"NO!" the cry ripped itself from Legolas' throat as he felt Vénea go limp in his arms. Praying it was the stillness of unconsciousness only his fingers desperately sought her pulse and the relief that coursed through him was almost a physical reaction. His own breath coming shallow and ragged he gathered her into his arms and rose quickly to his feet every muscle in his body straining to move the fastest that it could. Holding her close he sped away from the battlefield to the outskirts where he may tend to her wounds in relative safety. He never saw Osellë arrive swiftly where he had just left and stare in desolation as the elf that she loved, carried away her best friend. She stood silently on mounds of orcs killed by the bow held loosely in her hand. Legolas never looked back.

Depositing Vénea gently on the hard earth Legolas tore frantically through the limited healing supplies he had brought with him. His deft hands found the bandages and working with terrified haste he tore strips off and began to bind the cruel slash cut across her chest. His heart burned within him and he ripped his soul to shreds as heart-rending guilt tore through him and ate away at his very essence. Why hadn't he been there? He had abandoned her, a child on the battlefield, and now she would die for his inattention. His hands trembled as he bound the wounds on her leg and chest and tears he couldn't hold back rolled down his fair cheeks. He rocked back and forth, staring in horror as his hands came back red with her blood. He picked her up and held her to his chest, never ceasing his rocking motion. He felt her warm blood begin to sink into his tunic and he felt the strain of her laboured breathing against his fingers. A feeling of guilt that was almost physical pain washed over him and sighing deeply at his emotional weakness, he felt hot tears run through the contours of his face. How could she die now, before he even had a chance to explain what had happened? Emotions and relationships were still half-formed, but there had been so much potential. Something special could have been born and now she was dying he couldn't help but feel that some fundamental part of him was dying with her. Feelings assaulted him from every angle and he deposited Vénea gently on the ground, changing position to lean over her and cover his face with his hands. Sobs now wracked his body in earnest and every muscle trembled with the power of them. Tears leaked between his fingers and splashed down onto the unmoving body he crouched over. He remained like this for several minutes until a soft voice reached his hearing.

"Hannon le, Legolas," I whispered as I gingerly pulled myself into a sitting position. "Thank you." My ribcage felt like fire and I was never more pleased to see a friendly face. Though at that point I hadn't yet looked up. When I did I was in for a shock. His face was damp and his eyes were locked onto me, his fair features frozen in a mixed expression of confusion and disbelief. I raised a solitary eyebrow, "What-"I began, but faster that my eyes could follow he grasped my shoulders and pulled me forward until I was crushed against his chest. "Never do that again," he whispered fiercely and my perplexity deepened. "I didn't do anything," I protested, beginning to fear that he thought me weak for fainting. "That was beyond my control, I did not mean to pass out." He pulled back slightly to look me in the face, "That was not what I meant," he said gently. I immediately felt guilty. Was I forever doomed to misunderstand good intentions and embarrass myself? "I am sorry," I said, my tone somewhat subdued as I battled to fully understand why I was apologising. "Iston." Even if my mother had not taught me a basic understanding of Elvish that would have needed no translation, the inflection in his voice was enough. "I know." His serious expression changed and he leaned away from me, merriment fuelling his actions. "Maethach," he laughed, "You tried," Unfortunately he was out of my range as I did not yet want to risk unnecessary movement, but I aimed a mock smack at him anyway. He laughed again and danced a little further out of my reach. A chill wind blew in at my side, where he had just left it and I shivered slightly at the suddenly withdrawal of his body heat. Unconsciously I shifted my position a little closer and attempted to huddle against him for warmth. He raised an eyebrow slightly at the gesture, though Aragorn had prepared him for many quirks of the human race, this was not one of them. He seemed unsure how to respond and I held my position feeling vaguely uncomfortable and waited for him to make the next move. To me the course of action was blatantly obvious, he should move his arm and so try to warm me up that way, but he hesitated. I frowned in annoyance and sat up, freeing his arm so he could move it and encircle me more easily. Still he sat there dumbly, looking perplexed. "Well?" I prompted sharply, feeling uncertainty creep into my tone. Was I being too forward with him? Were elves perhaps more reserved with their embraces? Another shiver rocked me and I firmly decided that this was no time to ponder on how elves conducted their relationships. This was something I intended to do the mortal way! I moved his arm upwards, dragging it towards my shoulders and his face suddenly relaxed with understanding. I released his arm and he moved it to curl around my torso and draw me in closer. I sighed slightly in relief, maybe now I could finally get warm. He smiled down at me, now fully understanding my previous intentions and seeming comfortable with our current position. He laughed and spoke quietly, "Complex is the race of Men," I could only nod, this close proximity to him causing my breathing to come quicker that usual and my normally pale skin to blush a faint rose-red. His words had trailed off and he stared silently into my eyes. Forget about talking, I realised that our relationship needed no more words. I let out a shaky breath and without my conscious direction my body began to lean forward at almost that same time that his did. Pulled forward as if by some invisible sting drawing us closer and closer together, I felt his hot breath on my cheek and closed my eyes. His cool lips brushed mine and my heart sang. I had waited for this moment so long without even realising it…

"LEGOLAS!" the loud cry jolted me painfully back to awareness and I opened my eyes to see Legolas pulling back also, a mixture of longing and surprise on his face. His slender hand found mine and I locked onto it seeking comfort from his touch. With his other hand Legolas drew one of his Elven knives and settled himself into a battle-ready crouch. It was to both of our surprise when Aragorn burst into the clearing, "Legolas, the Nazgul are coming," he whispered carefully, his eyes scouring the skies above us. I squinted upwards but could see nothing, and it was at the last moment as I was about to look away that I heard it. A bone-chilling cry, almost a scream that turned my blood to ice. Instantly I felt Legolas' hand tense in mine, and he whipped his head up to survey the skies as I had done. Wisps of his blond hair flew across my face and from behind their curtain I saw the look of pain on Oselle's face as she entered the clearing, her eyes lingering longingly on the intertwined hand of Legolas and I. When the curtain cleared Oselle's face was a mask and no emotion showed through. So intent was I in my study of Osellë I almost did not hear the second screech of the Nazgul above my head. Legolas' hand gripped mine almost painfully tight and I looked at him in shock. He was bent over double, his right arm clutching his shoulder; his eyes squeezed shut in pain. At first I thought it was the memory of some old wound, but then I noticed the protruding arrow shaft. A wail escaped my throat unbidden and I threw myself at him, to protect him from further attack, even as the Nazgul cried again in triumph above us. "Urin dant-mina dae!" I whispered desperately "Lasto beth nin, Legolas. Do not fall into shadow! Hear my voice, Legolas." I called out to him, but if he heard me he gave no sign. I held him tightly, the roles reversed, I was the protector now and I felt him lean into me almost as if he believed that if he hid now, I could shelter him from the pain. I wished with all my heart that I could. I felt a hand on my arm, filled with an irrational fear that it was the dark rider of the Nazgul I tensed with shock and whirled with a vicious cry to slam my forearm against the person who had touched me. Aragorn staggered back under my onslaught. I moved my body in front of Legolas to use myself as a shield, still unsure how to respond to Aragorn's presence as adrenaline pounded in my veins, and glared at him warily. He backed away slightly and whispered gently to me, "Eam layaa mellon. I am your friend." I discontinued my glare but did not move away from Legolas. I felt a sudden weight on m back and confusion turned to horror as I realised Legolas had passed out. Forgetting my former hostilities I turned to Aragorn, "Help!" I mouthed silently. He came forward immediately and I saw tears glistening in his eyes. Not for the first time I realised I had misjudged him. He too loved Legolas. I made a mental note to apologise later, now was not the time. He lowered Legolas gently to the floor and I kept a firm hold of the now limp Elvish hand in my grasp. Arms grabbed me from behind and pulled me away. I fought, but the arms were persistent. With reluctance I let Legolas' hand fall and turned to face my captor. Osellë faced me the longing I had earlier seen now well masked in her eyes. "We go to save Frodo." She told me firmly and my mouth dropped open. Surely she could not expect me to leave Legolas now? "I will not-" I began to protest, my ire rising strongly. "You must." She responded before I could finish, "Legolas will live, he is strong and he has Aragorn now." I nodded dimly aware of the truth in her words. Confusion knitted my brow however and I turned a questioning gaze on Aragorn and the unconscious Legolas. "Since when does Frodo need saving?" I queried. Aragorn laughed at my confusion, "Since he destroyed the ring and Mount Doom now has lava pouring down it on every side. He and Sam are trapped." He added, his voice quiet with lingering worry. "Alas, I am too heavy for the eagles, and Legolas…" his voice trailed off as he gazed at the rapidly breathing elf in his arms, "Legolas is also in danger." He finished. "You must go." I nodded and left the glade, though something inside me wept as I departed. We headed for another clearing not far distant and I shuddered as I saw the size of the great bird I was due to ride. Climbing unto his back with un-Elven grace I readied myself for the flight. To my relief we rose smoothly and proceeded with haste to the mountain that was but a distant hill in my vision. As we drew nearer I saw that it was no hill. Lava spewed from every angle and I could barely pick out two small shapes huddled in one of the few spots that remained clear. I leapt from the back of the eagle, landing neatly next to one of the halflings. Drawing him into my arms I clutched the small body close, blood from his hand staining my already ruined tunic. Although it was a stupid response in such a dire situation, I sighed as I took in the full extent of damage to my clothing. No amount of careful stitchery could fix it and I tugged at my torn hem sadly. Dragging my mind back to more pressing matters I vaulted with difficulty onto the back of a passing Eagle as it swooped low so that I may do just that. It seemed to take forever to return to the camp and the small being in my arms remained unresponsive, despite my best efforts. I passed him off to a concerned looking man with white hair and beard and forced my weary limbs into a run as I headed for the only place they could have taken the wounded elf. Estel's tent. Not even looking behind to see if Osellë followed I pushed back the tent opening. Legolas lay on the floor, sweat beading on his forehead and he moaned and writhed within Aragorn's grasp. I moaned myself, and flung myself to my knees beside him. Pressing my hand to the side of his face I whispered gently to him in Elvish, "Uuyech er, Legolas. Lasto beth nin, tolo dan na galad! You are not alone Legolas. Hear my voice, come back to the light!" I do not know whether it was the sound of my voice or the Elvish words that calmed him, but he gave one final soft moan and ceased to struggle against Aragorn. Ignoring the questioning look sent my way by Estel I pressed my hand against Legolas' forehead and drew it away sharply in shock and fear. "He has a fever!" I cried in shock, my heart pounding uncomfortably against my ribcage in anxiety. "I am aware," replied Aragorn darkly, his previous expression turning to one of concern and mild annoyance. " Please," he implored me, "go and get some rest. I will tend to Legolas." I did not speak a word, not dignifying his response with an answer. Instead I settled myself more comfortably to the ground and dipping a soft cloth in some cool water, proceeded to mop the brow of the fevered Prince. Aragorn must have recognised the defiance in my gaze, for he pressed me no further, quietly resuming his vigil over the fallen elf. I got the distinct feeling that it was going to be a long night and I hoped against hope that Legolas would still be with us at the end of it


	4. My Immortal

**Part Four **

**My Immortal**

_Don't turn away _

_Don't give in to the pain_

_Don't try to hide_

_Though they're screaming your name_

_Don't close your eyes_

_God knows what lies behind them_

_Don't turn out the light_

_Never sleep never die_

_**Evanescence – Whisper**_

It was along night as I had feared, and for much of it I was pushed to the outskirts of the tent. Healers busied themselves bustling backwards and forwards from Legolas' prone body, applying this, and tending that. I had tried once or twice to get close enough to hold his hand or even whisper what few words of comfort I could offer in Elvish, but I was always turned away. Osellë had been allowed to sit by him, on account of her being an elf and a long-term friend of Legolas. In her grief for the Prince it would seem that she had forgotten about me and, while it broke my heart to be unable to reach him, I could not blame her. Had I been in her place I had little doubt that I would have done the same. Aragorn had barely stirred from his friend's side, leaving only to fetch clean water or fetch another bandage. The wound to Legolas' shoulder had not yet ceased it's bleeding, a fact which troubled both he and the healers deeply. This much I had been able to gather from the snatches of conversation that I overheard. Another worry, which I had the feeling disturbed Aragorn and Osellë most deeply, was the fact that Legolas had not yet regained consciousness. It had been a full five hellish hours since our brush with the Nazgul, but Legolas had not stirred since he fainted against me in that clearing. Aragorn and Osellë were exchanging ever more frequent worried glances and I ached to know the cause of their concern. I decided the time was ripe for my third attempt to reach the fallen elf. I rose swiftly to my feet and strode confidently forward, hoping to affect the air that I had every right to be at his side. I got the closest yet, a mere three feet away from Legolas' side, before I was intercepted. I gave a half-hearted struggle, as I was lead away, knowing from experience that my complaints and pleas would go unheeded. But this time Aragorn noticed me, and as he did he leapt to his feet and my course was for the second time intercepted. "Let this woman go. She has a right to be near the Prince now." The vice-like grip on my arm was abruptly released and I span on my heel to follow Aragorn gladly to Legolas' side. "Has he not yet awoken?" I queried, hoping that it would spark some explanation of their fears on that matter. My disappointment must have shown when the only response I received was a half-hearted shrug from Aragorn as Osellë tugged at my arm moments later. "Vénea, what troubles you?" she queried. "There is something wrong with Legolas and no-one will tell me what." I responded, my bluntness causing one of the Healers who had been eavesdropping on our conversation to gasp, I turned my worst glare on her before continuing, "I have a right to know. He is my friend too, and I would know the severity of his condition." Aragorn's features softened and he reached out to pat me lightly on the back. "It is probably nothing, young one," he said comfortingly, "But…" I stiffened not liking the sound of that but, "He has been through far worse than this," he blurted, his brow furrowed in confusion, "and he has always been strong, and never remained unconscious for so long. I do not see what is so grievous about his current condition that he will not awaken." He shook his head slightly as if to clear it, then sighed. I shifted my body closer to Legolas, leaning down slightly to get a closer look. His breathing was deep and regular, but somehow it sounded scratchy and grating. I also noticed, with mounting horror, that the fresh bandage applied only a moment before was already soaked red with his blood. "Perhaps it is loss of blood that weakens him," I suggested. Aragorn's brow creased once more, "Perhaps…" he replied slowly, "But come, you too are in need of rest. You can sleep in here for tonight and I will notify you of any changes in Legolas' condition-" the rest of his words were lost as Legolas finally stirred and moaned where he lay. Aragorn was immediately beside him.

* * *

"It is well, mellon nin, I am here." Aragorn's words reached Legolas through a haze of confusion and pain, and he moaned again trying to find the composure to speak. "Where…" he managed to force out from his unresponsive body, "You are in my tent, healing. Fear not, it will be well," Aragorn's voice responded softly and Legolas groggily opened his eyes to see hazy shapes drifting above his vision. "Aragorn, I can't see you!" he whispered, his panic rising. "It hurts, please take it out! Please! Why are you doing this?" he questioned his friend as the agony speared through his shoulder and the voice that had kept him trapped in the realms of darkness called out to him once more. "You're my friend, aren't you? He's lying, isn't he?" Legolas' questions became closer together and more frantic as his desperation mounted. _I do not lie._ The voice drowned out all else and Legolas shook from the sheer evil that radiated from it. _My tower fell but I live on inside you, Master Elf. You can't fight me. You've tried, you've failed and now you'll kill them all. It's all your fault. I'll win, I always win._ The voice tore through him and he sobbed as he realised that the voice spoke truth. Sauron still lived. This evil poison of Mordor that had tipped the arrowhead contained his essence. Slowly he would succumb to the Dark Lord's power and Middle Earth would be lost. Using the last of the will that was left to him he called out for Aragorn to hear, "Take it out! He is here, he lives still! Remove it or kill me now!" His vision hazed and the pain in his shoulder returned ten-fold. _Disobedient elf! Must I beat all sense into you? You've lost and your defiance will cost you dearly. I see with your eyes the vision that is hidden from you. Your friends despair. What do I see now? A human maiden approaches... She cares for you and you have feelings for her. She will be the first to die at your hand. Suffering the loss of loved ones for all eternity will be a fitting punishment for you, I think. Knowing they died by your hand and your sneering face was the last thing they saw. I'll see to it that this body never dies. You'll live forever knowing what you've done._ The evil laughter resounded in his ears and the threat shook him to his very core, "No, please…no." The face of Vénea shone hazily above his vision, "Please…no."

* * *

"I won't hurt you, I swear! Legolas, lasto beth nin! Hear me!" I sobbed uncontrollably, his soft pleas too much too bear. I held him close, not wanting to let him go, not ever, wanting too stop his cries and heal every hurt. But I could not, I could only hold him close and pray, I buried my face in his tunic and the sobs poured out. I felt a gentle touch on the back of my head, and I lifted my bleary eyes slowly, gulping for breath, tears still coming in hiccups. " I did not mean you," Legolas' voice was strained as if he spoke with extreme effort, "He is here. He will not leave me alone, I did not mean-" he drew in as sudden breath as if something pained him, but then continued, his voice even softer that before, "Do not leave me, please, he tells me things and I do not want to hear them. Stop him, please… make it so I cannot hear his lies…" his voice trailed off and he gave a sharp moan of pain, I could feel his hold on consciousness slipping so I cried in desperation, "What should I do?" his voice drifted back almost inaudibly, "Sing…" I sucked in a breath and worked to keep the tremor out of my voice.

I began the only song I knew that contained even a few words in Elvish,

_May it be an evening star_

_Shines down upon you._

_May it be when darkness falls_

_Your heart will be true._

_You walk a lonely road,_

_Oh how far you are from home _

_Mornie utulie (darkness has come)_

_Believe and you will find your way_

_Mornie alantie (darkness has fallen)_

_A promise lives within you now_

_May it be the shadow's call_

_Will fly away_

_May it be you journey on_

_To light the day_

_When the night is overcome_

_You may rise to find the sun_

_Mornie utulie (darkness has come)_

_Believe and you will find your way_

_Mornie alantie (darkness has fallen)_

_A promise lives within you now_

_A promise lives within you now_

As I finished I noticed that Legolas' breathing had lost some of it's ragged edge and I let loose a sigh in relief. Unsure of my next action I looked to Aragorn for guidance. He motioned his hand in a circular gesture and I took that to mean that he wished for me to repeat the song and I obliged immediately, starting from the beginning once more. Osellë's rich voice joined mine and we sang the song over and over again, my voice becoming steadily harsher, no matter how hard I tried to match her. I gulped in another ragged breath and readied myself to repeat the song, for what must have been the fifteenth time, when I felt a water-skin pressed into my hands. "For your throat," said Aragorn gently, giving the water bag a final push in my direction. "You must be thirsty," I needed no further encouragement and I raised the bag to my lips the cool water refreshing my parched, dry throat. While I was distracted with drinking, another man entered the tent and I recognised him as the one who had taken the Halfling, Frodo, from me. His eyes were an almost unnaturally bright blue and his beard and hair perfectly white. I dropped the water-skin in amazement and stared in surprise as he knelt next to me and attempted to pull the now sleeping elf from my clutches. I snarled at his action and only held Legolas tighter, coiling my body to spring should he risk another attempt to remove Legolas from me. Aragorn quickly intervened, perhaps recognising the warning look in my eyes, " I wouldn't if I were you Gandalf, Vénea tends to be a bit protective when Legolas is unconscious. Maybe you should try a different tactic." Gandalf frowned in frustration, dividing his glare between Aragorn and I. He turned face me and at first I saw unmasked annoyance, but as he stared into me something in his gaze changed and his expression softened. "Please. He needs my help and I would not see this young elf die." The word 'die' galvanised me into action and I, still somewhat reluctantly, relinquished my hold on the slumbering elf and Gandalf lowered him gently to the ground. Osellë's arms fastened around me and I allowed her to drag me away a few feet. I was now out of hearing of Gandalf's words but Osellë had not released her hold on me and I was too tired to put up much resistance. He leant over Legolas and I saw the elf stiffen and arch his back, though his eyes remained shut they were now squeezed together and his breathing was erratic. I tensed myself and waited anxiously for Gandalf's next move.

* * *

Gandalf leant over Legolas, his words casting a potent spell to cast out evil. There was evil there, Gandalf had felt it from the moment he entered the tent. It seemed weak and frail, but the fact that it already had so much control over the elf worried the wizard. Legolas was fighting, but if this evil had so much strength, even when weak, how long could Legolas fight it? His frown deepened further in worry and he threw everything he had into the incantation, speaking with the authority of the White Wizard. "Tolo Legolas!" he cried out his voice was booming and he felt the elf beneath him, stiffen, convulsing upwards violently, as dark acrid smoke began to pour out and gather in a black shadow above his body. Gandalf felt the presence there, it was Sauron himself! How Legolas had got into this situation and found the strength to defy the Dark Lord was beyond Gandalf's comprehension, but his resolve was now iron clad and he fought to keep his entire concentration focused on the elf. One slip-up now would cost Legolas his life. Loud crashes from the opposite side of the tent ricocheted through him and for one split-second Gandalf felt his concentration waver. When he refocused on the elf, Legolas had drawn the black shadow back within his body and Gandalf could feel the might of Sauron's evil there. He had failed.

* * *

I saw the healer walk into the stack of tinderboxes, but my mortal reactions were too slow to prevent what happened next. I saw Gandalf's concentration break and the evil presence return to Legolas' body. My heart almost stopped within me as I watched in dread as the elf that lay on the floor of the tent opened his eyes. His gaze bored into me and I saw no recognition in it, only malice. I could see no trace of Legolas within their depths. Standing to his feet in one fluid motion this being flung the wizard across the tent and repeated the motion moments later with Aragorn. Both lay dazed and unmoving, momentarily too stunned too act. A voice that came from Legolas' mouth, but seemed the most opposite to his own of any I had ever heard, issued from his lips. "_You lose. Did you really think you could go against me and win? My tower has fallen but I prevail. This elf will be my host until the final days of Middle-Earth. Know that you failed to protect him, just as you shall fail to protect all the other free-beings of Middle-Earth._" He laughed then and a sound more cruel and humourless I had never heard and hope I shall never have to again, "_But Sauron does keep his promises_." He continued, his eyes scanning the confines of the tent, "_Where's that human maiden I made a promise to this elf about?_" I stiffened; knowing instantly that it was me that this Dark Lord spoke of. Osellë moved in front of me to shield me from view, but I pushed her aside and rose. I had heard tales of the evil of this Dark Lord Sauron, but I had never seen his tower, nor the Eye that had burned above it. At that moment I had no idea what I was getting myself into. "Is it I that you seek?" I asked boldly, taking a step forward, my eyes flashing in defiance. Sauron whirled to face me, and laughed once more. "_Such foolish bravery_," he intoned, "_How like a mortal! I shall enjoy killing you, I think._" I took a step backward, almost falling over Osellë as I did so. "I think not, you hellspawn." I replied with a sneer, doing a good job of hiding my fear, or at least, so I hoped. "Legolas will not allow it." My faith in Legolas gave my words extra strength and I summoned the courage to look him in the eye and raise my chin. He laughed once more and the sound sent tremors down my spine, "_Such faith you have! How that will change when I kill you with these hands!_" he raised Legolas' hands for emphasis and advanced on my position, a foreign expression of malice twisting Legolas' beautiful features into a face I did not recognise. For the first time I felt a twinge of fear in the pit of my stomach, but I held my ground and did not retreat from his advance. He stopped a mere foot from where I stood and slowly raised an arm, "_Now you will die_," he whispered, but I did not close my eyes, nor wait for the blow to fall. I stared him dead in the eye and replied, my own voice soft with hate and rage, "No. Now you will fall." His grimaced at me and raised his arm higher to deliver a fatal blow. As I looked him calmly in the face, I heard a sobbing intake of breath from Osellë behind me and motion from across the tent as both Aragorn and Gandalf struggled to stand. My gaze honed down until all I saw were two wonderfully beautiful eyes and I stared into them, hoping that their owner would return to them before all was lost.

* * *

Aragorn watched helplessly as his dear friend, who was now forever lost, raised an arm to strike down the young girl. He wanted nothing more than to close his eyes, but his horror-struck body would not obey him and he saw as that arm fell with lightening speed to strike the deadly blow. At the last possible second the arm stopped and hung in the air, no more than an inch from Vénea's body. He watched in amazement as Legolas' body began to shake and Sauron looked in fury at the arm, before yelling aloud, it would seem to no one in particular, "_NO! It was not supposed to be like this! I was supposed to win! I cannot be defeated!_" the trembling increased and the distorted version of Legolas' voice grew weaker, "_How was I to know the elf's destiny was with a mortal? Damn you all to the seven hells!_" The voice died away altogether and Aragorn heard the voice, the true voice, of his friend whisper one word before his body went limp and sagged to the ground. As he hit the ground, a cloud of black smoke rose up from it and a faint shrieking could be heard, "You haven't won this!" Aragorn ignored it and forcing his body to work he flew to the side of his fallen friend, finally returned to himself.

* * *

"Vénea…" I heard the softly spoken word drift from between Legolas' battered lips before his eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed to the ground. I saw as the dark cloud rose from him and the evil voice of Lord Sauron sounded in my ears, "_You haven't won this!_" I shivered, the words repeating themselves over and over in my pounding head. I watched as the ground rushed up to meet me and I fell limply by Legolas' side.

* * *

It was some time later when I awoke and the tent was all but empty. Sunlight drifted in shafts through the thick tent material and I could not suppress the joy that rose up in me as I felt in my heart that Sauron's evil had been purged from this land. Memory slammed into me and with a sickening wrench of fear I remembered what that freedom might have cost. I threw myself onto my side and let out a huge sigh of relief as I saw Legolas curled into a foetal position, sleeping soundly on my left. I drew in a deep breath and let the sound of his steady, rhythmic breathing calm the fears in my heart. Reaching out, my small hand found his slender one and I grasped it tight, the contact giving me the reassurance I needed to drift back into slumber.

* * *

Everything hurt. Even breathing was a trial. Legolas shifted his position slightly, the shafts of sunlight burning their imprint onto his retina. Looking carefully from side to side, Legolas noticed that Aragorn slumbered on his left and Vénea on his right. Both held one of his hands and a small smile crossed his features. Turning over fully he gently extricated his hand from Vénea's grip and faced Aragorn, shaking his friend gently into wakefulness. "Hello mellon nin." The soft words came from Aragorn as he returned to awareness slowly and lazily stretched out his aching limbs, before the full force of memory slammed into him, turning quickly he assessed his friend with concerned eyes, "Are you well? What-" Legolas let out a soft laugh and pressed a slender finger to Aragorn's lips, silencing the words he had yet to speak, "Maem," he answered softly, "I am well." Aragorn relaxed slightly and rolled onto his back his, next words so soft no-one but Legolas could catch them, " I thought we had lost you, when Sauron spoke… I am sorry my friend, I should have realised sooner." His eyes were dark with self-blame and he turned to look at Legolas, imploring his friend to forgive him. Legolas shuddered as the dark memory flowed through him, "For a time you did loose me," he answered quietly, "I had all but succumbed to the Dark Lord's control. But then..." he frowned as the memory eluded him, "But then something happened and I found the strength to fight His will. I thank you my friend, for whatever you did." He closed his eyes wearily, preparing to let sleep steal him, but Aragorn's gentle touch disturbed him, " Nay, not I, my friend. It was Vénea who saved you, she called you back from the shadow and by both your efforts Sauron is vanquished." Legolas' eyes registered shock, "Vénea? But…" he sighed loudly, " I should never have dragged her into this. Was she hurt? If He touched her I will-" his words were cut off as Aragorn quickly shook his head," No. She is well, if a little tired." he smiled gently, a knowing glint in his eye, "I'll make ready to break camp and leave the two of you in peace." Without another word Aragorn exited the tent and Legolas turned slowly to face the sleeping woman. " Vénea?"

* * *

I heard my name, but it sounded as if it came from a long way distant, and I turned in my sleep, reaching out groggily with my hands to find the source of the voice. My searching hands were clasped in the grip of another and I blearily opened my eyes to find the Prince of Mirkwood smiling at me. "Legolas, you are awake!" I gasped, pulling myself upright, "Are you well?" I questioned, my previous anxiety not fully quelled. He rolled his eyes at me and spoke softly, as if suspecting I was not yet fully awake. "I am fine. You are the second person today to ask that and already I grow weary of it! It is you who concerns me." he said, his fair features creasing in concern, "I am better that I thought I would be." I responded with a laugh, turning my head slightly so that I faced him fully, "Has the evil gone?" I asked, I needed to hear it from his own mouth, before I could really believe it was true. Legolas smiled sadly before responding, "Yes, thanks to you. Aragorn told me of your actions. I am afraid I do not fully remember," he touched his temple lightly, his expression apologetic. I smiled at him, pleased, "It is well that you do not remember, Legolas." I responded honestly, "I only wish that I too could forget…" I could not suppress the shudder that followed the dark memory. Legolas looked at me in concern, and I attempted to pull off a nonchalant, shrug, but failed, my shoulders hunching miserably. He turned full onto his side, pulling both his arms free and extended them towards me, "Come here," he said gently. With some trepidation I inched closer, careful not to touch his wounded shoulder and came to a stop about six inches from his body. He wrapped his arms about me and pulled me closer, until my body rested fully against his. "Now," he said softly, "we can both go back to sleep." I relaxed against him and soon after I felt his breathing become deeper and steadier as sleep stole him. I snuggled deeper into his grasp and allowed my self to drift of into pleasant dreams.

* * *

Aragorn woke me up gently when he and the stretcher-bearers arrived, and he assisted me in disentangling myself from the still sleeping Legolas' grip. Legolas sighed when I was finally freed and shifted in his slumber, pulling his arms back closer to his body. We lowered him gently onto the palette and even in sleep he moaned as the movement tore at his still aching shoulder. We moved out, Aragorn and I walking at Legolas' side, as the convoy moved on towards Gondor. Osellë was nowhere to be seen and it struck me that I had also not seen the dwarf, Gimli, since Legolas was taken ill. This was something of puzzlement as, in my previous experiences, the dwarf had always been over protective of his Elven companion, whom he saw as younger than Aragorn and himself. It was odd that I was thinking this, just as I heard the voice of that same dwarf from a spot not so far distant, " Where is he? You tell me now or I'll have your head off!" I laughed along with Aragorn as the stout dwarf came into view, holding a young officer at axe-point. His threat was forgotten as soon as he sighted the unconscious elf, Aragorn and myself. With a cry he raced over to us, " What's that lad been up to now?" he demanded, "Stupid elf!" Aragorn and I could tell from the look in his eye that Gimli's harsh words came from concern, and we laughed gently. "Legolas is in no danger now, Gimli," Aragorn reassured and the dwarf harrumphed slightly, but I noticed his worried expression go down a notch. "Why were you not present last night?" I questioned, voicing my previous quandary. Gimli harrumphed again and I noticed a blush spreading over his face, "An orc shot me in the…" The rest of his words trailed off into mumbling, but Aragorn and I had heard enough. We both collapsed into helpless laughter, the further grumbling of Gimli only adding to our merriment. We continued in high spirits as we passed through the white towers of Gondor.

* * *

It was some time later before I was able to look in on Legolas. He still slept soundly where we had left him and I relaxed into a chair beside his bed, curling up into a ball and preparing myself to go to sleep. I had been given my own room within the palace of Gondor, but I preferred not to be alone, and, with Osellë missing, Legolas was my only choice. Movement from the bed caught my attention, and I looked up to see Legolas staring at me. I smiled, "How do you feel?" I inquired softly, "You have slept for most of the day." He eased himself up onto his elbows and glanced around the room before settling his gaze on me. "I feel like a cave troll used me for an anvil. Where are we?" The confusion was evident in the Prince's eyes; " We are in the palace, in Gondor. Aragorn and Gimli would be here but, unfortunately, they have business to attend to. King stuff," I informed him with a casual shrug. He let out a soft laugh. "Help me stand," he implored, "I would see the stars, it seems to have been so long since I saw them last." I moved to the side of the bed and allowed him to lean on me as he got to his feet. He winced as he stood, the movement jarring his shoulder and I moved my arm to loop it about his waist and help support his weight. He looked at me in surprise and I stared back, feigning innocence. " Fear not." I said softly, a wicked smile brightening my features. "I think you no less of a man!" Legolas aimed a gentle smack of reprimand at my shoulder, and I flinched at the motion, thinking he truly meant to hit me as he had the night before, under the influence of Sauron. Legolas, stopped, seeing my response and spoke in alarm, "I will not hit you, Vénea! And nor will anyone else if I am at all involved. Who has scared you that you respond such?" I stared down at the floor cursing myself for showing that response. "It is all this battle, Legolas," I responded, my gaze never leaving the floor, " It has set my nerves on edge." I lied, hoping that he would believe my untruths, not wanting to tell him the real reason for my response. He sighed and put a comforting arm about my shoulder, "Alas that war should come to have to have this effect on the young. But come, the stars are untouched, let us hope that their beauty can also heal us." I helped him to make his way out onto the balcony and for a time we simply stood, side by side, gazing at the heavens. "The stars are beautiful are they not?" sighed Legolas after some time, "It does my heart good to hear their song." A smile was my only response and I imagined that I too could hear the far off songs that the stars spun. I tore my gaze from the heavens to the elf that stood by my side. On this starry night the brightness of the heavens seemed to shine in him and he lit our surroundings with a soft blue glow. I gasped, "Legolas! You are… glowing!" I blurted out and he looked at me startled, then smiled, "Oh, I forgot. You have not been around elves much have you?" I shook my head slowly and watched as the glow on the balcony dimmed. "Is that better?" he asked. I shook my head, stronger this time, "No." I answered definitely. "I would far prefer to see your glow than any darkness. Do not dim it. Glow for one who cannot." I added the last sentence softly, part of me wishing more than ever that I was an elf. Things would be so much easier then; I would have grace and beauty. And the growing feelings for Legolas would be so much easier to realise. He turned a serious gaze on me and using one hand tilted my chin up so I was forced to look him in the eyes. "I have never seen anyone glow as you do in my eyes." he answered simply. I felt myself melting against him and a sudden rush of sweetness as his lip met mine. It felt wonderful; it felt true, like nothing could ever feel more right. I gave in to sweetness and wrapped my arms about Legolas, even as he did the same to me.

So preoccupied were we with each other that neither of us even noticed the rustling in the foliage beneath the balcony, nor the soft sob as Osellë ran off into the night.

The next morning Osellë was still nowhere to be found. I searched for her everywhere there was time to before I was summoned to the coronation. Aragorn's coronation was to be a massive event. Banners and streamers hung from every available space and the people sang and laughed with joy: their King was home. For much of that day I had seen neither hide nor hair of Legolas, much to my dismay. He was kept busy, acquainting himself with the newly arrived elves, running errands and preparing for some important, as yet absent, Elvish guest. I had little to do with the preparations, so I busied myself hunting for Osellë and trying not to be a nuisance. The time for the coronation came quickly, for me at any rate, and I had long since given up trying to force my wild, dark curls into submission. Smoothing down the hem of my first new gown in years I tried to blend in with the smartly dressed elves and men that surrounded me. Aragorn had not yet arrived and already my legs longed to sit. I forced myself to wait, but it still seemed an age before anything of importance even began to occur. I watched as the Crown of Gondor was placed on Aragorn's head and he stepped forward to greet his people. He moved slowly, bowing here, and talking there until he reached a small knot of elves and I noticed Legolas at their head. He smiled fondly at his friend, and from his bearing you would never have guessed he had a shoulder wound at all and I was amazed at how well he concealed it. Aragorn greeted him warmly and Legolas responded in kind, treating his friend to knowing smile before quickly stepping to one side. Aragorn's attention was diverted from his friend to the Elven maiden who had walked forward into the space Legolas had just vacated. I watched in fascination as she lowered her hood and revealed the most beautiful face I had ever seen. "Arwen…" Aragorn whispered her name entranced and gathered his new Queen into his arms. The crowd went wild in joy. I felt a touch at my elbow and turned to see Legolas standing there. With a motion of his head he bade me follow him and, thoroughly confused, I obeyed. He took me by the hand and towed me along until we reached the gardens of the Houses of Healing. I had not often had opportunity to visit this place and I marvelled at its beauty. Two Halflings raced past us laughing aloud and I recognised them as Merry and Pippin, friends of Frodo. They called out words of encouragement to Legolas who attempted to silence them by launching himself at them in mock attack. They only laughed harder and ran faster, and Legolas laughed himself as they rounded a bend in the path and disappeared from view. This only served to heighten my confusion and I turned, opening my mouth to question Legolas, but he motioned me to silence before I could speak. Taking me by the hand once more he led me in silence to a bench that overlooked the sea and sat down on it, motioning me to do the same. My confusion reached fever pitch, but just as I felt I was about to burst with unanswered questions, Legolas spoke. "You are probably wondering why I brought you here, are you not?" I nodded vehemently, waiting for the explanation. "I have something that I wanted to ask you in private." His serious expression changed momentarily as he added, "But it would seem Aragorn has let slip to someone," remembering Merry and Pippin's behaviour. He turned to face me once more. "This is an important question, so do not let your answer be swayed by circumstance or anything other than your true feelings." I nodded once more, wishing he would get to the point. "Aragorn has long predicted that this day would come, but I always thought it folly. Until now." His voice was soft and meaningful and almost drove me to insanity! Unable to control my raging curiosity any longer I burst out, "Please Legolas! Hold me in suspense no longer! Out with it!" He placed both his hands on my shoulders and pulled me close, so our foreheads were almost touching. "I have fallen in love," he said softly. "Please be my wife." I was stunned into silence. I opened my mouth but no words came out. These feelings were not one-sided then. He loved me also! I thought that I must burst for joy or maybe leap over the moon, but though I could not move from where I sat, though my heart sang within me. "I will marry you Legolas, and I can think of nothing I want more than to be your wife!" He turned to face me, his own happiness showing clearly on his face and I laughed with the joy of it. Crushing his lips against mine we sealed our betrothal with a kiss. He placed his hands on my hips and raised me into the air, twirling around and around. I laughed again and he lowered me down, our hands joined and we whirled around in dizzying circles, drunk on our love for one another. It was dark by the time we finished celebrating and, our hands never parting, we ran back to tell Aragorn and Arwen the good news. We found them in their chamber and burst in. They did not even seem surprised, in fact Aragorn's only response was, to Legolas, "What did I tell you!", and Arwen turned her calm, yet joyful gaze upon me and gave a solitary wink. Legolas and I shared a room that night and my last thought before sleep claimed me was of how beautiful our wedding was going to be.

Little did I realise all was not as well as it seemed, attested to by the soft sobbing from outside our bedroom window. But Legolas and I were already fast asleep.


	5. When Plantpots Attack

**Part Five **

**When Plant pots Attack**

_I give my hand to you with all my heart_

_Can't wait to live my life with you_

_Can't wait to start_

_You and I will never be apart_

_My dreams came true because of you_

_From this moment as long as I live_

_I will love you, I promise you this_

_There is nothing I wouldn't give_

_From this moment on_

_**Shania Twain – From This Moment On**_

Legolas awoke me early the next morning and, forcing my still unfocused eyes to obey me, I managed to lock onto the spot where my Prince was knelt. He was crouched next to me; his beautiful, soft hair falling about his and my face as he gently talked me back to awareness. I groaned and tried to bury my head under the silken sheet, but Legolas merely laughed and, with a well placed swift tug, I was rolling out of bed to land with a soft thump on the heavily carpeted floor. I scowled as I tried to regain my bearings and aimed a grumpy hit at the helplessly laughing elf. "You are not helping matters!" I scolded, still too sleepy to find any humour in the situation. This did nothing to improve my groggy awareness or Legolas' ability to take it seriously, in fact, if anything, he only began to laugh harder. I gave up trying to stifle his exuberance and hoisted myself off the floor, making my weary way to a dresser, where I attempted to drag a brush through my rebellious hair. Legolas had finally managed to regain his composure and he leapt swiftly to my side. "Please! You will only damage your hair further if you treat it like that! Allow me, I think I am up to the challenge of taming it." As he spoke the corners up his mouth turned up into a grin and he looked at me beseechingly. Reluctantly I handed over the hairbrush and tried to maintain a displeased demeanour as Legolas worked his gentle fingers through my tangled locks. I could not keep up the pretence for long though, especially when he began to recount a tale of the last time he had let Aragorn do his hair. According to Legolas it had taken six months for his eyebrow to grow back and he had assured me that he was certain I would be hearing further tales of that and other such mishaps when we returned to Mirkwood. I raised a single, fully intact eyebrow, and would have turned to face him but for the fact he held my head firmly in place while he worked on my hair. I was certain Aragorn would have a different perspective on that little tale and I made a mental note to question him on it when I saw him next. Legolas finally finished his fussing and stood back slightly, admiring his handiwork. I remained still, unsure if he had actually finished. After about five minutes of my being stationary, Legolas let out a huge laugh, "Come Vénea! You can move now, or do you not wish to see how I have arranged your hair?" I gave a short grunt and muttered something very uncomplimentary about my future husband under my breath. He only laughed harder and stepped away from me spinning so that I had a clear view of the mirror behind me. I drew my breath in sharply as I beheld the intricate braid that had been woven with my hair. The strands were twisted in elegant bands and criss-crossed each other in maddening patterns of intricate beauty. I turned to face Legolas who had stopped laughing and was now simply gazing at me. I was too impressed to speak so I let my eyes do the talking and curved my mouth into a lopsided grin. He smiled back and turned away from me to walk to a corner near the back of the room. Once there he picked something up and returned in my direction, quickly hiding whatever that something was behind his back. "As well you know we are travelling to meet my father in Lothlorien today, to begin preparations for our wedding." He spoke in a knowing tone as he shortened the distance between us. I nodded solemnly; it was indeed a fact I knew well as I had been silently dreading it for the past week, something that I had the feeling Legolas was all too aware of. I tried to catch glimpse of whatever he was concealing; suddenly anxious that he was about to reveal some horrible apparel that was tradition in Mirkwood, but would make me look like an overstuffed pumpkin. I eyed him with further apprehension as he came to a stop just ahead of the chair on which I resided and gazed at me, feigning innocence, with a mischievous glint in his eye. "I had it custom-made for you when you accepted my proposal," as he spoke he slipped whatever it was out from behind his back and placed it in front of me draping so that it's hem rested on his arm. "I hoped you would like it…" he finished his words trailing of into a self-contented smile. It was the most beautiful dress I had ever seen. It was pale green in colour, and full length, extending down to the ground. It had two straps, both as thick as belts, which would hold it in place about my shoulders. From just beneath the chest to follow the curve of my hips was a wide band of embroidery in a shade of medium green, it bore a never-ending swirl of leaves that seemed all inter-linked and yet individual at the same. From there the pale green returned, falling into curved fronds when it reached the ground. Bound about the shoulders of the dress was a dark green cloak that fell down beyond the floor to form a train, again it was embroidered with leaves, but the cloak also bore some form of crest on the back and I recognised it as the crest of Mirkwood. With a soft sigh I took the garment from Legolas and fixed him with my gaze. "I'm not getting changed with you watching," I told him firmly. "We aren't married yet. Close your eyes." Legolas did not comply immediately, but let out a soft laugh, his eyes wandering slightly. "That I am all too painfully aware of!" he replied, and stood to his feet, moving closer to me so that our foreheads touched. "It is probably better that I avoid temptation. Seven thousand years is a very long time to wait." With those words he turned his back to me and walked out onto the balcony, calling behind him, "Tell me when you are ready." With him out of the way it was not long before I stood in the dress, and made my way to the full length mirror on the left side of the room. The dress just skimmed over the floor, creating a floating effect whenever I moved and it clung tightly to my figure, making me seem more slender and lithe somehow. The cloak provided me with a train and it rustled slightly behind me as I walked. I called for Legolas to re-enter and as he did so I did not miss his quick intake of breath as he caught sight of me. "Meleth-nin, you look more radiant than ever!" he cried as he caught me in his embrace. I held him back and hoped that he knew how deep my gratitude was for giving me such a gift. Not only was it a beautiful dress, but I had the feeling it would go a long way in winning over Legolas' father, King Thranduil.

* * *

King Thranduil paced impatiently in the halls of Lothlorien. Where on Middle-earth was Legolas? It was just like his son, late for everything, even his own wedding! Thranduil let out an enormous sigh and twirled on his heel preparing to walk back the way he had just come for what must have been about the hundredth time. A soft voice from the shadows to his left had him twirling in a second, "Please, King Thranduil, cease your pacing! I would not care to see a rut carved in the middle of my banquet hall." Thranduil guiltily faced his host, Galadriel, and gave a sheepish smile. "I am sorry, my Lady. I had just expected Legolas and his future bride to be here by now." Galadriel smiled knowingly at the King. "It disturbs you that she is mortal, does it not?" she questioned gently, although Thranduil was certain she already knew the answer. He sighed again, "Yes, it does." He ran his hand in a weary gesture over his face and closed his eyes momentarily in worry. "I fear that she will persuade him to give up his immortality." He turned to face Galadriel suddenly, "I do not wish to lose my son," he whispered. This time Galadriel did not smile, "I have gazed into my mirror and seen something of the fate of this mortal and your son." She turned her serious gaze to meet his; "Their fates are forever bound to one another. It will not always be easy or pleasant for them, but know this: your son has chosen well. This mortal is the one." Galadriel did not elaborate further, and without another word or even a further glance in his direction she swept out of the hall. Thranduil thought. Her words had given him much comfort, and if this mortal was truly the one then his son had indeed chosen well. But… Thranduil let out another sigh and started pacing once more.

* * *

The envoy had left Gondor some hours ago now and dusk was beginning to creep in from the West. I shifted my position slightly, feeling the familiar ache of cramp that comes from having been sat in the same position for a very long time. I wriggled uncomfortably and tried to stretch my legs out as far as they could go within the confines of our carriage. From across the way I heard Aragorn and Arwen stifling their giggles at my behaviour. I let out a sigh of mock despair and wriggled more frantically in my efforts to get comfortable. This time they couldn't hide their humour and I heard Legolas' laughter join theirs. At this I looked up. All three of my companions had been unusually quiet on the journey and I had been trying for a long time now to lighten the mood. "Vénea! Cease your squirming!" chided Aragorn through his chuckling, "We will never reach Lorien if you can not settle yourself!" I stuck out my lower lip in mock indignation and turned my head sharply away from him, fixing Legolas with my mischievous gaze. He was still smiling from my antics and I was pleased to see that the brooding attitude he had been drawing into had, for the moment at least, cleared. "Ah." I said, twisting so that I faced Legolas fully, "You are returned to us, meleth-nin. Why have you laughed so little since we set off, some five hours ago?" I questioned him directly, my present discomfort hindering my attempts to be subtle. He sobered immediately, his expression turning serious and he broke eye contact. I shifted closer, fearing he would quickly withdraw into himself again. Aragorn moved forward also, his hand coming to rest on Legolas' forearm. Steeling myself for the worst I moved my hand to raise Legolas' chin and turned his head so that his gaze was forced to meet mine.

* * *

Legolas felt Vénea's light touch on his chin and allowed her to turn his head to face her. He could tell from her eyes that she feared the worst and he hastened to reassure her as best he could. "Fear not Vénea, my love," he said softly "I still greatly anticipate out wedding tomorrow. I would not exchange you for any other bride on Middle-Earth." Legolas hoped that she could sense the honesty behind those words and was relieved when he saw the fear in her eyes lighten. "The reason I have refrained from laughter is…" he trailed off unable to continue. He felt Aragorn's arm grip his own and he used the strength from that contact to pick up his words, " I fear my father's response." He said, finally voicing the fear that had troubled him since he first realised his feelings for this woman. Vénea stared back at him in confusion, but Aragorn's eyes showed understanding and Legolas thanked him silently, knowing Aragorn would understand. "My father is King of the Woodland Realm, and you are to be his daughter. He has never been too friendly in his relations with Men and for that I think I am mostly to blame." Legolas shuddered as he remembered those dark nights after his return from Dorolyn, and the fury in his father's eyes as he beheld what men had done to his son. The memories were not easily forgotten, but they were in the past now and all hate he had harboured for the mortal race was long since dead. "There was an… incident… with some men and I became involved. It bears me no lasting effects now, but my father has distrusted men since, even as I did for a time. Aragorn was the one to break that barrier down!" Legolas smiled as he spoke the last sentence and aimed a playful swipe at his friend, which Aragorn dodged, knowing his friend well enough to have seen that one coming. Legolas grinned playfully at his friend before returning his full attention to Vénea. "I was not aware that your father may have a problem with my race." Her words were soft, but the heartbreak behind them almost brought Legolas to tears, " I wish I was an elf, but I can't change the way I was born no matter how much I may wish to. If it is against your father's wishes maybe we should…" her voice broke and she began to weep softly, unable to finish the sentence. Legolas was momentarily frozen and Aragorn was taken aback so it was only Arwen who comforted the crying woman. "Shhh… Shh young one, it will be well…" Arwen's voice was soft as she strove to quiet Vénea's sobs. These sobs eventually broke Legolas from his paralysis and he hastened to her side, "Vénea, please, do not weep! I love you! No-one, not even my father, can change that!" Vénea's sobs quieted somewhat, but she still refused to raise her head and look at him. "Please," he whispered, his own voice breaking, " Look at me…" in a very swift motion, almost too fast for even Elven eyes to follow, she threw herself into his open arms and buried her head against him, sobbing for breath.

* * *

I was almost past my crying jag now, but I still did not want to raise my head, fearing I would look terrible with red, puffy eyes and put him off marrying me permanently. Besides, I liked sitting here with my head buried in his shoulder, it felt very… safe, somehow. It was almost a shame when Arwen turned me to face her, and I still clutched Legolas arm where it was, grasping mine. I did not say a word, I just nodded, and, had I been feeling more cheerful, I would have laughed at the relief in her eyes. Doubtless, she was pleased that she no longer had a wailing mortal woman to deal with. I laughed, despite myself, and earned an amused look from Aragorn. "You have acquired Legolas' sense of humour, Vénea. He also seems to laugh at strange times." Legolas positioned his arm firmly about my shoulders and I settled into this arrangement gladly, making certain that he truly did still want to marry me. The rest of the coach journey was conducted in companionable silence, but Legolas' arm never left me, and as we neared the eaves of Lorien I felt his grip tighten almost imperceptibly.

We had arrived in Lothlorien and I had been sent immediately to my new chambers to begin freshening up. I was very displeased at this arrangement, I have never much been one to fuss over my appearance, but I was careful to hide this response well. I knew those about me meant well, and I did very much want to make a good impression on the King. Legolas had been sent away also, we were told his father had sent for him, and he had promised to return and get me when it was time for the introductions. I brushed my hair as best I could without upsetting the braiding and straightened my dress and cloak. I heard the door to my chamber opening and, fearing it to be Legolas come to get me to meet to meet his father, and I feeling so unprepared, I dived to the floor and tried to hide under a blanket that I pulled off the bed. No disguise of mine would have fooled an elf and a trembling, hunched up blanket on the floor was no challenge. It was no time at all before the blanket was pulled away and I found myself staring into the face of Osellë. I was momentarily taken aback, she was the last person I had expected, but the one I had most hoped to see. "Osellë!" I cried in joy, "You have been gone so long! Where did you go? When-" Osellë cut off my barrage of questions with a small shake of her head. "Now is not the time for such things," as she spoke the corners of her mouth drifted up into a smile and I found myself grinning hugely in return. Taking me by the forearm she pulled me to my feet and my grin turned sheepish as she raised her eyebrows quizzically at the sheet that slid off my back. I just shrugged in what I hoped was a nonchalant manner and opened my mouth to make a quick subject change, but she spoke before I had chance to, "Don't tell me you and your betrothed were playing a game of hide and seek! Surely you are both too old for such games." I caught, not for first time, a glimpse of some deeper emotion masked by her teasing words. I narrowed my eyes and decided that I was going to find out right here and now what that emotion was, "Osellë, something is troubling you. Please tell me what! Do you have a problem with me marrying the Prince?" this time I caught no trace of any emotion, and Osellë's eyes were dark pits. "Vénea, it does not concern you. My business is my own, and I would thank you to keep out of it." Her harsh words cut into me and I turned away, an angry and confused blush staining my cheeks crimson. Moments later I felt a soft touch on my arm, "Vénea, I am sorry. This is a very difficult time for me and I am having some personal problems. I did not mean to snap at you, life is just so very… confusing, at the moment." I turned to face and saw the apology in her eyes. I decided to accept it and press no further, the answer would probably be something I did not want to hear anyway. "Very well," I sighed, "Was there an actual purpose to your visit or did you stop by purely to torment me?" I directed the question while looking her in the eyes so she could see the wicked humour behind it. Her own returning smile was even more wicked than Legolas', "There was." Her smile widened, and my worry deepened; what had she got in store for me now? "I am sent by Legolas to retrieve you. The time is come for you to met King Thranduil. He awaits your presence as we speak," I stifled my groan at this unpleasant news, "And I presume we are already late?" I questioned though I feared I already knew her answer. "By some ten minutes now. But come, and do not fear. It will be well," with these words she flew from my chamber and we both ran down the hall to the chamber where the King awaited my arrival.

* * *

King Thranduil glared at Legolas. 'Where is your bride now?' his eyes seemed to say and Legolas pretended to have suddenly noticed something highly interesting on the carpet to avoid meeting them. 'Just like Legolas,' the King thought darkly, 'late for everything.' Now he would have two latecomers to do deal with; the errant Prince and Princess of Mirkwood. He sighed, but could not fully disguise his smile, 'Perhaps it would be fun to have a mortal around the place, they certainly do liven things up…' It was just as he was thinking this that a small shape burst through the door, tripped over a plant pot and landed face-first at his feet.

* * *

Who on Middle-Earth put a plant pot there? Of all the stupid places to put a plant pot… My train of thought was broken off abruptly as a pair of strong hands fastened about my shoulders and hauled me to my feet. I found myself staring into a face not dissimilar from Legolas'. A great chasm opened in the pit of my stomach. Please, somebody tell me I had not just sprawled on the floor at the feet of the King of Mirkwood! A snigger from my left confirmed my fears; Aragorn and Arwen, unable to contain their merriment, were bent double with laughter in the corner. I was too nervous even to glare at them. I faced the King, despite my deep foreboding, and swept him my most elegant curtsey, "I do apologise my Lord, I was not expecting to encounter a plant pot. You see… I … uhm… I have had most unfortunate dealings with them in the past… and there was a ruckle in the carpet just outside the door-" I was cut off from further explanations by a soft chuckle from in front of me. Startled, I looked up to see the King of Mirkwood, smiling happily at me, still laughing softly. He turned to face Legolas and said some words to him in a dialect of Elvish that I did not understand. Though at first I feared what those words might have been, for example, "What a wonderful clown, now tell me son, where is your real bride?" However, my fears were proven entirely unfounded as Legolas turned to me moments later, a smile spread across his entire face. I relaxed visibly, although I took care to retain a posture suitable for a would-be Princess. Shortly, I felt Legolas' presence at my elbow and I could feel him shaking softly. Alarmed, I span around only to be confronted by a Prince straining desperately not to laugh. Disgusted, I wrenched my arm from his grip, but the expression on my face was too much and Legolas' control broke. With a further sigh I turned to the King who was doing a better job of hiding his laughter. With grace he extended his arm out towards me and I took it, stepping daintily over the figure that was Legolas, now rolling on the floor with uncontrolled merriment. Trying to retain what dignity was left to me, I left that room with my head held high much to the gleeful amusement of the four figures I left behind. Legolas, Aragorn, Arwen and Osellë were still laughing when the wooden door closed with a soft thud after the King and I.

A loud noise broke into my slumber, and I jerked upright in my bed. Sliding my feet out from in-between the sheets they came into contact with the cold floor. I shivered slightly and, pulling my travelling cloak about my shoulders, I started of towards the origin of the cry. My feet padded silently down the Elven corridors and I had to struggle to keep from stumbling into the walls - elf eyes were better for seeing in the dark than mine, and they had no need for torches to light their way. I stifled a cry as I stubbed my toe on a plant pot for what felt like the hundredth time. A curse on all plant pots! What purpose did they serve anyway? The unfortunate plant pot was spared my vengeful kick as I heard the cry come again, this time from the chamber just to my right. Careful to avoid the plant pot I hurried along and slowly pressed the door open. Sneaking a glance around the door I beheld Osellë turning and crying out fitfully in her sleep. Her eyes flew open as I entered and she stiffened suddenly, cutting off the sound mid-cry. I hastened to her side. "Osellë, what troubles you my friend? Please, what is it that you cannot share it with me?" she gave a soft sob and turned away and I could see that further questioning would get me nowhere. With a sigh I forced down my natural curiosity and pulled the now silent elf onto my lap. "Sleep my friend." I whispered softly, knowing Osellë would have no difficulty hearing me, "It will be better in the morning. That I promise you." Osellë no longer made any noise, but I could still feel a slight trembling in her body that betrayed the fact she had not followed my request and gone back to sleep. Not really knowing what else to do, I began to hum a soft tune, indeed the same one I had hummed to Legolas to get him to sleep many nights before. This seemed to calm her, as it had done Legolas, and I finally felt her stiff body relax. The worst of the night over, I finally let my own head fall back lightly against the headrest and began to doze.

I awoke before Osellë on the morning of my wedding and began to make preparations. We had arrived on a coach from Mirkwood the previous night and Legolas and I had decided not to share a room to preserve the surprise of seeing each other fully dressed for the ceremony. It had been decided some days before that the joint weddings of Aragorn and Arwen, and Legolas and I, would be held in the forest of Lorien. A reception dance for Legolas and I was to be held a few days after in Mirkwood and a similar affair in Rivendell for Aragorn and Arwen. I glanced out of the window and was pleased to see that the light mists still veiled much of the forest, giving it a mysterious and un-earthly feel. Much to my chagrin a smirking Osellë had informed me that Elven weddings were held at dawn. Upon pleading with Legolas to tell me otherwise Osellë's words were confirmed and, as a result, here I was preparing for my wedding just as the first light was creeping over the trees. Or, as it was now, just before. I was not best amused. Legolas and Osellë, however, had found great humour in the situation and I could imagine it to be one of the tales Legolas would delight in telling to our children, should we ever have any. I grimaced inwardly at the thought of how I would be teased by the kids, but the thought of children, well… it was something I had always hoped for. I smiled brightly and turned away from the window as I heard soft sounds of movement from the bed. I turned to see Osellë smiling gently from where she was propped up on her elbows between the sheets. "You're up." She murmured. I rolled my eyes, "How very observant of you. Yes, you foolish elf, I'm up! And so should you be if you wish to see me wed." I turned away from her as I spoke so that she faced my back. "Could you button up the back of my dress? And then I will need some help with my stockings and-" the black look sent my way by Osellë killed my sentence half-way through, "What?" I questioned my look the very epitome of innocence. "I am nobody's dress maid, least of all yours, human," Osellë emphasised the taunt with a wicked smile. I grinned wryly in response; "Surely you could bring yourself to help out a friend in need on her wedding day? Unless, perhaps, I ask too much… Maybe you do not know how to dress me properly and wish to avoid further embarrassment." I faced her with a wicked smile of my own, knowing the response that statement would garner, "You cheeky…!" Using Elven speed in no time at all Osellë was on her feet and the back of my dress was fastened. I grinned inwardly. "Thank you so much," I said, "Now, my stockings are on the stool over there…"

The sun sent dappled rays cascading over the treetops, illuminating the secluded glade in which we stood with a gentle glow. Legolas stood opposite from me, his golden hair glowing almost brighter that the rays of light that illuminated it and I could not help but sigh at how breath-taking he looked in the pre-dawn light. He held my hands softly and his eyes shone as he repeated the words spoken to him by Gandalf, who had proclaimed that he would conduct the service, thank you very much! Gimli stood next to me, tears pouring down his weathered face and dripping into his beard, but I had eyes for no one but Legolas. Aragorn and Arwen stood directly opposite from us and I could dimly hear Aragorn saying the same words as Legolas, though a few seconds behind. Gimli had not yet relinquished his hold on my arm after he walked me down the aisle, and I smiled down at him warmly, signalling that I needed my arm to be freed. He let go as if he had just realised he was holding a mongoose instead of my arm and stepped back, level with the rest of the guests. Legolas diverted his attention away from me momentarily as he finished speaking to shoot a warm smile at the dwarf, which only succeeded in making Gimli cry harder. Legolas' eyes met mine and I shook my head slightly in mock desperation at Gimli's behaviour, and we shared a small laugh. "Do you Vénea, to hereby relinquish your old name in favour of the new, Vénea Greenleaf, Princess of the Woodland Realm?" Gandalf directed the question at me, his voice solemn, but his eyes dancing in merriment. "I do," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper, Legolas squeezed my hands harder and I could feel an irrepressible bubble of laughter and joy rise up inside me. "And do you, Legolas, promise to love and honour this woman for as long as these promises hold true?" Legolas turned to me, and I still swear to this day that I have never seen anyone look so handsome or so heart-stoppingly beautiful as he did at that moment. "With all my heart, I do." Legolas' words were soft and sincere and I felt that I wanted to laugh and cry all at the same time. Gandalf got his next words out just in time, for I think I would have before very long had he given his permission or not, "You may now kiss the bride!" Never has a kiss been so sweet as the one I shared with the Prince of Mirkwood at dawn that morning under the eaves of the forest of Lorien.

My hands moved jerkily as I clutched hem of my dress to my chest. Legolas held my hand and, for the first time, I kept up with him effortlessly as the ground sped away under our feet. We had escaped the ever-present crowd of wedding guests to be free for a moment on our own, a married couple at last! I giggled merrily and felt Legolas' curious gaze fall upon me. Turning to him I began to explain, "I was just thinking, we are barely married and already living up to our predicted reputation as the errant Prince and Princess of Mirkwood!" I stifled another laugh as Legolas and I came to a stop on the crest of a low hill. Legolas dropped to his knees and pulled me down with him, I settled myself on the grass, leaning against him, not really caring that I was going to get grass stains on my wedding dress. Legolas finally responded to my earlier statement, "It was my father who gave us that title was it not?" he questioned with a small laugh, "Personally I think it shall be quite fitting! I do not intend to spend our entire married life in Mirkwood, and I have a feeling we will redefine the meaning of errant!" We both burst into helpless laughter, and I could not stop until tears rolled down my face. Suddenly I pulled up short, "Look here!" I cried, pulling on Legolas' sleeve to divert his attention, "We're making puddles on my wedding dress!" That had us both going again in next to no time and I for one did not ever want to stop. However, the need to breathe outweighed my former wish and within minutes I was forced to either stop laughing or suffocate. Not wishing to have the shortest-ever-recorded marriage in Mirkwood, my laughter began to ease off. I sat with the Prince of Mirkwood, now my husband, on that hill leaning against him, our breathing coming almost as one and I thought that I must be the luckiest woman on Middle-Earth, and maybe, just maybe, I was.

* * *

Aragorn envied Legolas. How on Middle-Earth he and Vénea had managed to escape the guests was a secret Aragorn would give a lot to know. He smiled lovingly into the teasing eyes of the elf-maiden next to him, and decided that he would quite happily be surrounded by a thousand wedding guests instead of the hundred present, (which were bad enough!) just so long as he could be with her. He had always known Arwen was the one for him, from the first moment he had seen her dancing in a moonlit glade in Rivendell, he had vowed to make her his own. Legolas however, he had not always had the future so clearly cut as far as love was concerned. Though he was devastatingly handsome and many, many women would have gladly married him he had never shown much interest, preferring to venture with Aragorn into the unknown. Vénea changed all that. Although, Aragorn thought to himself with a chuckle that was a girl was a journey into the unknown in herself! She had never ceased to surprise him, or Legolas for that matter. Yes, Aragorn thought, gazing again into the eyes of his love, it was all going to be very interesting. Little did he know how right he would turn out to be.

* * *

Legolas and I managed to remain free until our hiding place was uncovered at about noon, "There you two are!" came a familiar voice from the shrubbery, "We have searched everywhere!" Gimli burst out, with Osellë hot on his heels. "Obviously not everywhere, Master Dwarf," said Legolas, his tone of voice advertising that he was purely teasing. The mischievous humour was reflected in Gimli's eyes, "You elves, always so certain! I'll have you know that with a Misses about there'll be not so much of the hiding!" Legolas merely laughed and it was Osellë who ended up pointing out Gimli's mistake, "You don't know Vénea very well then Gimli," she managed to get out between laughs, "He'll have more reasons to hide after being married to her than ever! The amount of trouble she'll drag him into! Oh, Legolas, I wish you more luck than I in trying to keep this one out of mischief!" she was unable to continue and the two elves had almost collapsed with laughter, Gimli and I not far behind. "I'll have you know I'm not quite that bad!" I protested, but Legolas took me by the arm and led me in the direction Osellë and Gimli had originated from, "Come on let us return to our sorely neglected guests." he said. A note of seriousness briefly entered his eyes as he added, "And don't worry, there aren't any plant pots!"

When we arrived back in the glade where the wedding feast was to be held we were immediately surrounded by the wedding guests, King Thranduil being foremost among them, "Already errant and barely married!" he chided but the glint in his eyes gave away his amusement at the situation. Galadriel, also, came forward at out re-appearance and stepped up directly behind us, taking my left and Legolas' right arm, no doubt to ensure we did not make a second break for freedom. She escorted us away to the far side of the glade, next a to a small trickle of a stream that ran with a cheerful bubbling noise. Set up there was a large wooden stand that I had previously failed to notice, upon it were various guest milling around and I blushed with pleasure as I noticed the ornate centrepiece. "Where did that come from?" I heard Legolas gasp beside me, and I blushed deeply, unsure of how to answer. Fortunately I was saved the task as Galadriel began to speak before I had thought of anything to say. "I believe that was the doing of your wife. She says it is her Mother's recipe, something called 'chocolate' I think." Galadriel winked at me and departed, leaving Legolas and I alone with the titanic confection. "It is a favourite recipe of mine and I wanted to surprise you. I hope you will like it, it has a very pleasing flavour," I spoke rapidly, hoping he would be impressed, all the while unconsciously twisting my hands into my dress. Legolas raised one amused eyebrow at me before approaching the cake hesitantly. "It smells… nice," he said carefully, "but I have never heard of chocolate before, and I have certainly never seen a cake so big…" his voice was lost as he disappeared around the side of the cake. " Legolas? Don't get lost around there meleth-nin, my love, it wouldn't do if I had to dance alone on my wedding night." I called, hoping to hear his laughter through the cake, but I received no reply. Moments later Legolas reappeared around the other side of the cake with a small bemused smile on his face, "I don't think I will ever understand the ways of mortals," he murmured. "Or what it is that makes them think everything must be made so big," he gestured to the cake for emphasis, "but I know for certain that I am incredibly pleased I have promised to spend the rest of my life finding out!" He smiled at me hugely, "It is a marvellous cake!" was his final satisfied comment and I laughed at the look of bemused admiration on his face as he gave the sponge a closer inspection. He turned to me, his smile still achingly beautiful, "Now I have a surprise for you," he whispered and extended his hand, in it lay two glistening circlets of metal, "But I thought Elves did not have rings at weddings!" I gasped, in fact it was something that had upset me when I had first learned of it, but it was a small sacrifice to make for marrying the elf of my dreams so I had let it slip, with some sadness. "It is not Elvish tradition to have rings at weddings, but since when have I been traditional? I saw how you wished for this and it would please me to have some outer sign that tells of my love and devotion to you." He got down on one knee on the grass in front of me and his beautiful blue eyes gazed openly into mine, "These are our wedding present from Gimli, mithril from the mines of Moria." He said with a soft chuckle, "Now Vénea, we are truly wed." he slipped one ring onto my finger and slid the other onto his, he opened his mouth as if to speak but no words came out and we simply stared at one another. The tension became too much and I fell onto my knees beside him, "Hannon le," I whispered, and he smiled again. I leant forward and closed my eyes, as did he, but a soft sound from behind us made us stop and turn and it was with some shock I saw that most of the guests invited to our wedding had seen the whole thing. They stood silently, and I noticed that many of them were crying quietly, I quickly identified Gimli as the source of the noise that had disturbed Legolas and I and with some gentle amusement saw that he was crying again. When he noticed Legolas and I staring at him he blew his nose loudly on the nearest piece of material, which unfortunately happened to be the hem of King Thranduil's tunic, and with a cry of, "I hate weddings!" turned and blundered off into the woods sobbing noisily. I motioned for Legolas to follow him and he complied with a soft laugh, "Gimli!" he cried and tore away after his fast retreating friend. I shook my head softly at their antics and turned to approach a very disgusted King Thranduil. After helping him to clean his tunic sufficiently I turned my attention to the returning Gimli and Legolas and with the help of my husband made our way through the throngs of well-wishers to cut the cake.

With hindsight I can say that what happened next was highly amusing, but at the time it was just the opposite…

"No, no, my Lord, the tapestries are not for climbing!" I cried as I attempted to pull King Thranduil off the wall for the second time that evening. With an inward sigh I surveyed the scene before me; elves running here and there behaving like small children and laughing almost hysterically. Dotted here and there the only mortals present, Aragorn, I and a few others attempted to curtail a few of the more dangerous of their antics, such as climbing the tapestries that hung some ten feet above the floor. Who would have guessed the effect the high concentrations of sugar in my chocolate cake would have had on this normally so reserved race? Certainly not I, but there was no time to dwell as I was forced to race from one side of the hall to the other calming the hyper elves. I was in the process of persuading one elf to carefully put down the fine china cup that was a prized possession of Lord Celeborn, when Aragorn appeared at my shoulder. "Vénea, you must come quickly," he said, his breathing rapid and shallow, I span, forgetting the elf in front of me, "What is it?" I questioned hoping desperately that it was not what I feared. My world came crashing down with his one word reply, "Legolas." I ran, following Aragorn, out of the hall, only wincing slightly as I heard the tinkle of Lord Celeborn's cup breaking.

* * *

The world was dark and his head hurt. The pounding was relentless and black shapes swam across his vision, occasionally accompanied by a voice. Moments ago he could have sworn he heard Aragorn calling to him, but then the words had faded into silence and Legolas surmised that his friend must have either left or been taken away. He was no longer really certain where he was and he did not recognise any of the whirling faces around him, their voices sounded distorted and strange and he was too confused to be able to tell whether their words were evil or benign. He tried not to listen; not to concentrate on whatever the voices were trying to tell him. With a soft sob he curled tighter into himself as more bodies and voices pressed near. Why wouldn't they leave him alone? He began rocking back and forth and concentrated on blocking the voices out.

* * *

I saw Legolas curl more tightly into himself as I approached and my words didn't seem to reach him. He began to rock backwards and forwards, murmuring some mantra to himself in Elvish as he did so. My heart almost broke within me and I strained even harder to break through to him, "Legolas, can you hear me? It's Vénea." My words were soft but I couldn't fully hide the pain behind them and Aragorn put a comforting hand on my shoulder, "Meleth-nin?" I almost missed Legolas' words, so softly were they spoken. Hope flaring up within me, I moved closer, "Yes! It's me Legolas!" he turned his head slowly towards me, uncurling slightly, "Truly?" he questioned me, almost as if he was looking for confirmation of his thoughts. This time I did not answer directly, but moved closer and gave a soft nod of my head, "Yes, Legolas. We were married his very day at sunrise. It was a beautiful morning…" as I continued talking Legolas uncurled himself slowly. By the time I was done his legs were straight out in front of him. For a time neither of us spoke. It was Aragorn who disturbed the peace, "Legolas, I think it is time you retired for the night, nin-mellon." He spoke softly but Legolas jumped at the sound of his voice, slowly Legolas nodded slowly and looked at Aragorn as if seeing him for the first time. "Aragorn," he murmured, "I thought you had left." Aragorn gave a soft smile and rested his hand reassuringly on Legolas' shoulder. "I am going nowhere, my friend," he promised quietly and locked the elf into a tight one-armed embrace. "Come," I said, rising to my feet, careful to give the two friends several minutes of peace before my interruption. Aragorn released his death grip on the elf and pulled Legolas to his feet, steadying him as he did so. With care, he placed Legolas' arm around my shoulders so that I could support his weight. He quickly departed with Arwen (she had been spared the after-effects of my chocolate cake along with Galadriel, due to their reluctance to put on weight). The two of them promised to sort out the current situation and bid me retire with Legolas, "After all," Aragorn called out as I led Legolas away, "this is our wedding night! Arwen and I will be up shortly!" I smiled gently at their retreating forms, silently wishing this hadn't happened and we could all have had a normal wedding night. Not likely! I gave a sigh and began to lead Legolas the long way up the stairs and along to our chamber. The bed was bedecked with roses (another Elven tradition) and I detached Legolas from my grip, leaving him leant lightly against the wall, while I brushed all the petals I could reach away in annoyance. When I finished my task and turned around I noticed that Legolas had slid down the wall and was hunched at the bottom clutching his head. I felt mild alarm rise up in my stomach as I crouched down next to him, "Gwiil hervenn-nin," I whispered. "Peace my husband, it will be well," he did not respond so I looped my arm under his shoulders once more and pulled him to his feet, elves are notoriously light, (when conscious at least) so this was a very simple matter. Once he was upright I gently prised his hands away from his face and, placing one hand on the side of his face I redirected his gaze so he was forced to stare me in the eyes. His eyes shone unnaturally bright and I even I could recognise the beginnings of a fever in them, "What did they do to you while I wasn't looking, meleth-nin?" I questioned softly, thinking Legolas was still too out of it to understand my words. I was rather taken aback, then, when I heard him reply with a soft laugh, "Nothing I did not do to myself! Foolish of me, I know…" he tried to stand free from the wall, but fell back with a short gasp. I pushed him firmly back against the wall. "There will be no walking around until I say it is well that you do so," I told him, hoping for once he would heed my words. He looked up at me saucily, the start of a cheeky grin on his face, "Is that an order?" I gave him a soft shove, even in his fevered eyes I could see the salacious look. "How can you even think of things like that at a time like this? You are in no fit shape and well you know it." Though my words were firm, I could feel the beginnings of a smile of my own begin to spread. Sighing in mock annoyance I hoisted him to his feet and he wisely decided to lean on me as I guided him to the bed. Gently I deposited him on the side and sat next to him, pushing him back until his head rested against the pillows. His grin remained and he looked about himself in mock disappointment, "What, no roses?" I gave him another shove and leant closer, "Legolas" I said, somehow managing to turn the word into a snarl. He just grinned at me and I sat back throwing up my arms in frustration, "What am I to do with you?" I questioned no one in particular, "I don't know," he replied, "Love me, kiss me, never leave me?" I rolled my eyes, "That I can do, but first you need to rest." I reached for the mug on the table next to the bed, "I asked Lord Elrond to make you this, in case of emergencies. It will help you sleep." He looked at the proffered mug in disgust, "If you think I will drink that, then-" I cut him off with a glare and he ceased speaking to glare at me reproachfully. I leaned closer with the mug and helped him sit up a little way, tilting the cup to his lips. Reflexively his arm came up to grip mine and he took a small sip of the liquid, wincing as it burned down his throat. He looked at me as if to say, 'Is that enough? Can I stop now?' I raised one eyebrow in silent reply, 'What do you think?' Reluctantly, he took a longer drink. I did not let up until the entire mug was dry. He eased his head back down onto the pillows and closed his eyes, "This was not how I envisioned spending my wedding night." He said wearily as the drug took effect. "I gave a laugh, "Nor I!" I replied," But there is always another night." I slid onto the bed next to him, curling my body around his, his slender hand finding mine. I leaned my head close until my cheek rested against his and began to sing softly,

_Lay down_

_Your sweet and weary head_

_Night is falling_

_You have come to journey's end_

_Sleep now_

_Dream of the ones who came before_

_They are calling_

_From across a different shore_

_Why do you weep?_

_What are these tears upon your face?_

_Soon you will see_

_All of your fears will pass away_

_Safe in my arms_

_You're only sleeping_

_What can you see_

_On the horizon?_

_Why do the white gulls call?_

_Across the sea _

_A pale moon rises_

_The ships have come _

_To carry you home_

_And all will turn to silver glass_

_A light on the water_

_All souls pass_

_Hope fades_

_In to the world of night_

_Through shadows falling_

_Out of memory and time_

_Don't say _

_We have come now to the end_

_White shores are calling_

_You and I will meet again_

_And you'll be here in my arms_

_Just sleeping_

_Across the sea _

_A pale moon rises_

_The ships have come_

_To carry you home _

_And all will turn to silver glass_

_A light on the water_

_Grey ships pass_

_Into the West_

When I finished I noticed that Legolas' breathing was fully relaxed and I brushed back the stray locks of hair from his face to make sure he was completely out. His sleep was deep, attested to by his closed eyelids, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Gently I pulled my arm out from underneath him and kissed him gently on the forehead, much as Aragorn had done, "I will return meleth-nin," I whispered softly into his ear, "Sleep now and be well in the morning." With those parting words I padded softly to the door and pressed it carefully closed behind me. I turned my already weary body towards the main hall. Now that Legolas was safe and resting I could turn my attention back to the situation in the hall. As I made my way there I mentally prepared myself for the sight I feared I would see.

* * *

Lord Elrond had been called away at the beginning of the meal, before he had chance to see the surprise Vénea had prepared. He hurried back, hoping he was not too late to see whatever it was, but stopped dead in his tracks as he pushed open the huge wooden doors that lead into the main hall. Elves were everywhere; hanging from the tapestries and chasing each other relentlessly round and round in circles. They were obviously mad, or at least that was Elrond's first diagnosis. Until he saw the two elves in the corner currently attacking each other with bread baguettes from the buffet table, "ELLADAN! ELROHIR!" he bellowed, "What have you done?" The baguettes were instantly dropped by the two guilty elves and they turned to face their father, "It wasn't us, Father!" They both spoke at once and Elrond noticed something was affecting them also: maybe they weren't to blame. That left only one other option. "ARAGORN!" Aragorn appeared from one of the side-chambers skidding to a halt breathlessly in front of his father, "It wasn't me!" he cried in protest, before racing off to separate Elladan and Elrohir who had resumed their bread-fight during Elrond's lapse in attention. "It was her!" he cried pointing as Vénea raced into the room on Aragorn's heels. She paused just long enough to shoot Lord Elrond a deceptively innocent, 'I-have-no-idea-what-he's-talking-about!' look, before running to help Aragorn separate the two warring elves. "It was not my fault!" she protested hotly, "I was not to know elves would react this way to a little bit of chocolate!" Elrond was momentarily too stunned for words, "You gave Elves chocolate? Aragorn you should have known better!" At his words Aragorn shot his father a sheepish grin, at the same time Vénea shot him a look of triumph. Elrond sighed and sank his head into his hands as a disagreement erupted between Aragorn and Vénea. "It was not my fault", "Was too!" both momentarily forgetting the bread-armed elves at their back who took advantage of the moment to increase their attack to envelop Aragorn and Vénea in breadcrumbs also. Another human stumbled into the room trying to wrestle a cracker-bearing elf to ground; "Can we discuss the blame later?" He cried desperately as the elf sunk his teeth into his hand and he yelped in pain and annoyance, "Why you cheeky-!" he growled out. Elrond recognised him as Jonath; Aragorn's recently appointed head of the guard. "ENOUGH!" cried Elrond and instantly the hall fell silent, even the hyper elves stopping to pay attention. Taking advantage of the silence Elrond turned to Celboril, "I think we are going to need a lot of tea." He said calmly.

Eventually there was but one elf left uncaught. Here and there about the hall elves lay drugged, as Legolas was, by Lord Elrond's tea. King Thranduil, however, still hung from the tapestries, yelling down at Elrond and I who stood beneath him. "You'll never get me! I'm the King! Ha, ha, ha!" We stood in silence as we gazed up at him. "He has been like this all night, my Lord. I tried for the best part of an hour to talk him down." I said quietly to the forlorn elf next to me. "Then I suppose I will just have to go up and get him," said Lord Elrond with more conviction than I felt he had. Rolling back his sleeves he mounted the tapestry by the tassels and proceeded towards Thranduil's position. As he reached him a tussle occurred and this was too much for the put-upon tapestry, with a wretched ripping noise it broke loose from it's fetters and headed towards the ground at the persuasion of gravity. The tapestry crashed down around me and a solid lump of elf King hit me squarely in the chest, temporarily winding us both. I heard Elrond call out from somewhere under the folds of material, "Quick, get him while he's dazed!" and watched as some of the tea was administered and Thranduil went lax on top of me. I discovered, to my dismay, that elves are very heavy when they're unconscious. As I struggled to free myself Aragorn and Arwen helped Lord Elrond extricate himself, then gathered around me. "We will help free you, Vénea, if you promise never to make that chocolate cake again!" said Aragorn, his eyes twinkling gleefully, though his words held a mock seriousness, I grunted miserably in reply. "What was that Vénea? I didn't hear you." He said leaning closer, "Very well!" I snapped, "Now let me up!" Aragorn laughed as he pulled the King off me and I could breathe once more. I rose to my feet, "Will he be alright?" I questioned as some servants of the King rushed their Monarch away to his chambers, "He'll be fine," said Elrond dismissively with an absent wave of his hand, "although he might wake up with a very bad headache." Aragorn backed away, startled, "I'll be sure to warn Legolas to keep his distance," he murmured. I laughed and Aragorn glanced at me, in mock indignation, "'Tis no laughing matter, Vénea. He's scary when he has a headache." I sobered immediately and Aragorn laughed himself at the look of fear on my face. Arwen patted me gently on the back, "Don't worry, Vénea. I'm sure Legolas will be able to show you all the best places to hide." She and Aragorn departed then and I was left alone with Elrond when a thought struck me, "Have you seen Osellë?" I questioned urgently, "She could still be out there somewhere! I have to find her!" Elrond put a calming hand on my arm. "You will not find her again, Vénea." he said gently with a soft shake of his head, and I turned to face him slowly. "What do you mean?" I asked quietly, fearing his answer, "She has left. Doubtless she will make her reasons known to you. I am sorry," he departed then, and I was alone. Lost in sadness and confusion I know not how I found my way back to my room. My heart was heavy as I slid under the sheets next to the still sleeping Legolas and curled up close. Had I found a husband only to lose my best friend?


	6. The End Of All Things

**Part Six **

**The End of All Things**

_Hold onto me love_

_You know I can't stay long_

_All I wanted to say was I love you and I'm not afraid_

_Can you hear me?_

_Can you feel me in your arms?_

_Holding my last breath _

_Safe inside myself_

_Are all my thoughts of you_

_Sweet raptured light_

_It ends here tonight_

_**Evanescence – My Last Breath**_

The room was shrouded in silence. No noise disturbed it, save the steady breathing of the elf next to me. I was lost in thoughts, they drifted through my mind and I was powerless to stop their flow, whether I wanted to hear them or not. My thoughts were of Osellë. How could she have left? I still fought the truth of what Lord Elrond had said, despite all evidence to the contrary. Osellë would not abandon me. I clung to that fading hope as two small figures burst through the door. "Is this the chamber of Legolas and Vénea?" they questioned cautiously and I squinted through the gloom to try and make out their faces. "It is. Why do you ask?" I replied equally cautiously. There was a loud sigh of relief and I recognised the faces of Merry and Pippin as they drew nearer the bed. "Phew! Finally; we've been in six chambers already and we've made ourselves very unpopular doing so!" Pippin informed me, leaning his elbows on the edge of the bed. I frowned to hide my amusement, and got straight to the point, speaking quietly so as not wake Legolas beside me who still slept. "What are you doing here? Legolas is not yet awake, if you seek his company." Merry shook his head fervently, "We do not seek his company, nor do I think he will seek ours when he has heard what we came to say." His cryptic comment aroused my suspicion and curiosity so it was with some trepidation that I questioned him further, "What do you mean by that?" Pippin shuffled his feet and carefully avoided meeting my gaze. "We spiked his drink with cider." Merry muttered, so low that I felt I would have needed Elven hearing had it gone but an octave lower. "You did what!" I could not keep my voice quiet any longer. What on Middle-Earth was going here? I hoped for their own sake that these hobbits were playing a trick on me! "Have you no sense of self-preservation?" I questioned in genuine confusion, "Legolas will surely kill you when he finds out!" I had meant the last sentence in jest, but the looks on the faces of Merry and Pippin told me it had not been received as such. I was about to open my mouth and reassure them when there was a stirring on the bed at my side.

* * *

Legolas groaned. His head throbbed like there were a thousand dwarves all pounding away with their hammers in there. Even the slight light from between the cracks in the curtain that covered the window hurt and he moved his arm to shield his eyes, rolling onto his side. A small laugh from beside him caught his attention and he opened his eyes to slits as Vénea turned raising onto one elbow to face him, "How do you fare?" she questioned softly and he turned his head to face her more fully before replying. "I am fin-" she cut him off with an evil glare before he could even finish the word. Still glowering she settled onto both elbows at his side. "I should have known better than to ask you!" she chided, "You always say that and more often than not you lie! Next time I will not be so foolish, I will just check for myself." She brushed his hands away in impatience as he attempted to ward off the hands that pressed to his head to check for signs of fever. It was his turn to glower, as she held him helplessly pinned to the bed while she checked each and every slight thing that might have been amiss. Satisfied, she settled back, "It seems you are fine, for now." She conceded reluctantly, "Though not up to full-strength otherwise I would not have been able to pin you down so easily. I'd wager you have a splitting headache, but are too proud to admit it." She finished with a definitive side-ways toss of her head and turned towards the door. "Now be nice, meleth-nin," she added her tone of voice softening, "You have visitors, though whether they are wanted or unwanted is a matter yet to be resolved." She smiled cheekily and Legolas resisted the urge to groan once more as the cheerful babble of the two previously unnoticed hobbits made his head pound even harder than before. "We didn't mean to," blurted Pippin nervously as he approached the bed-ridden elf with trepidation. "We thought it would lighten you up a bit," added Merry helpfully, tactfully ignoring the dark look sent his way by the Prince. "It was just a little drop of cider," whispered Pippin remorsefully and Legolas' eyes flew fully open, "Pippin! Merry!" he admonished, "You know I don't drink! I have always said-", Merry cut him off. "We know what you have always said, but we thought maybe you'd never actually tried it and maybe-" It was Legolas' turn to cut him off now, and he did so with a roll of his eyes. "Did it not occur to you that maybe there was a reason I do not drink alcohol? This has happened to me before, only the last time…" He finished, his voice exasperated, "I do not even remember." I was suspicious of this statement as I saw the beginnings of a blush stain his pale cheeks a faint crimson. Merry turned to Pippin and muttered quietly, thinking Legolas would not hear, "That's five shillings you owe me Pip. I said it'd turn out like this."

* * *

Elrond stretched his arms out in front of him and walked slowly to the door of his chamber, easing out all the stiffness as he went. Pulling the heavy door open he suppressed his yawn at the tiredness that surged through him. It had been a long night indeed! He heard the distant sound of voices from Legolas and Vénea's chamber, just down the hall from his own. It was with some satisfaction that he surmised Legolas must have awoken, the effect of the cider and chocolate on him hopefully having worn off. He turned his weary head to look the other way down the hall, hoping to see Celboril and bid him prepare a refreshing cup of tea, which would be most welcome at present. "WHAT!" the loud shout broke through his tired brain and almost shattered his eardrums, "YOU MADE BETS ON THIS! I'LL HAVE YOUR HEADS!" this enraged cry was followed by the sound of fast moving feet, and only Elrond's quick reflexes saved him from being trampled by the two hobbits as they raced past. Elrond shook his head slightly; surely he was seeing and hearing things. He must be more tired than he first thought… Moments later Elrond was forced to throw himself flat against a wall as a very annoyed Legolas stormed past, hot on the heels of the escaping Halflings, his eyes burning in rage, still in his sleep tunic, crumpled from the night. Elrond watched bemused, this was all very odd, but surely it must be a lack-of-sleep induced mirage? All such ideas were banished as Vénea sailed past moments later, chasing after Legolas frantically. Had Elrond moved from his position against the wall he would have ended up flat on his back as she brushed past, intent on capturing her husband, "Legolas! Meleth-nin, wait!" she cried, just before she and Legolas disappeared from Elrond's view. Elrond gave a soft moan, just like a normal morning in the Homely house, he thought wearily. He turned around and, closing the door firmly behind him, Elrond went back to bed.

* * *

I chased the hobbits and Legolas until my legs could carry me no further. I leant heavily against the wall, panting for breath as Legolas and the hobbits disappeared from my view. I waved them off with a 'good-riddance' flick of the wrist and turned my back against the wall placing my hands on my knees as I attempted to return oxygen to my starved lungs. When I could breathe once more I looked up and for the first time registered my surroundings. I was in the hall, just opposite from Osellë's room. My heart heavy with dread I pushed open the heavy oak doors and stared in dismay at the empty room and un-slept-in bed. My tenuous hold on control broke and I fell to the floor sobbing openly. "How could you leave me?" I wailed to the silent and foreboding walls, "How could you?" I had never felt so utterly abandoned since my father died. She had betrayed my trust and left me in this unfamiliar place, with so many unfamiliar faces. What had I done that she should leave me thus? In my opinion her betrayal was unforgivable. Forlornly, I stumbled to my feet and made my way, half-blind with tears, to the edge of the bed. I sat there and sobbed until I thought my heart would break. It was in the midst of this despair that I caught a flash of white on the table beside me. Reaching out I grasped the piece of paper and began to read;

_Dear Venea,_

_It is best for both of us that I should go; do not seek to follow me. I will not be a damper on your married life as I would be if I remained._

_I must tell you that I love your husband; I have adored him since childhood. I have had too many years of suppressing myself and I feel that I will be soon unable to control my ardour – therefore I leave and bury my love and grief in the West._

_Watch those around you, especially those Elves of Thranduil's court; they do not take lightly to such a violation of their tradition._

_When you need me, I will come, call my name in your hour of need and I will be with you as soon as I can. Do not fear that I will not hear you – our fates and that of Legolas are irrecoverably entwined. I will see you again ere you die._

_Do not think that I hate you because you have married him whom I love, anyone who sees him cannot but fall in love with him. I do not blame you for it, and you are still "mellon-nin"._

_Ná Elbereth veria le, ná elenath dín síla erin rád o chuil lín._

_May Elbereth protect you, may her stars shine on the path of your life._

_Osellë_

As I finished I dimly reached out and picked up the jewel that lay beside it. It was the necklace Osellë had worn on my wedding night. Realisation dawned on me, as powerful as the blow from a hammer and I was temporarily stunned. How painful this must have been for her! Had I been so blinded by love that I failed to see her torment? She had introduced me to the man she loved, watched him fall in love with her best friend, witnessed the entire courtship and then been forced to be bridesmaid at their wedding! Guilt overwhelmed me and I held the letter close to my chest, unsure what to think. Had she told me sooner of her intentions towards the Prince would all have been different? I realised with a pang of self-hate that I was not sure. Even with knowledge of her feelings there was a little voice inside me that warned I would not have changed my course of actions, though I would very probably have felt a lot guiltier about them. With a second shock I wondered how things might have turned out had she declared her feelings openly. Would I have been bridesmaid at her wedding instead of visa-versa? I shuddered with fear at the thought, feeling conflicting emotions of overwhelming relief and lingering sadness that things had not turned out such. This note changed everything and in my mind there was but one possible course of action. I would show the letter to Legolas and bid him tell me the truth. If he loved her also, then…Then my heart would break. But at least I would know. With this dark plan in mind I rose to my feet, reluctance in every movement, as I walked to face what I was sure was to be the end of my marriage.

* * *

King Thranduil awoke with a splitting headache as Lord Elrond had predicted. His bellows of rage at any servant who was unfortunate enough to put even a toe wrong, rang over the whole forest of Lothlorien. Not even Galadriel, wielder of one of the rings of power, dared enter his room. All the elves who had been drugged the night before awoke with headaches, but no further after-effects of the chocolate and began confused chatter with one another over what had happened the previous night. Aragorn, Arwen, Jonath and all those others, who had been kept up half the night chasing down the rampant elves, had sunken heavily into the deeply padded chairs at one end of the main hall and were sitting there trying to keep from dozing. Many of them were failing. The forest of Lorien continued on, blissfully unaware of the events of the night before, it's peace marred only by the shrieking of the elf and two hobbits that chased relentlessly under its eaves. Many members of the household awoke that morning to the cry of, "YOU'LL PAY FOR THIS, HALFLINGS!"

* * *

I knew the route the Halflings would take in their avoidance of Legolas; I had chased around it so many times. I took a short cut to the most convenient point along it and waited, it would only be a matter of time. My patience was well rewarded as mere seconds later the hobbits charged around the corner. I hastily rushed forward to put my plan into action and shoved the plant pot I had carefully collected earlier under the feet of Legolas. As I predicted he was still hung-over from his previous encounter with cider and his speed and balance were not at their best. He tripped right over it, as I had done many times before, but I was sure to step in and catch him before he hit the ground and did any real damage. "Meleth-nin," I greeted him with a wicked smile, "Finally, do you understand my mistrust of plant pots, now that you share my bad luck with them?" He glowered in response and my smile only broadened. "You tripped me," he muttered reproachfully as he regained his feet and I released my grip on him. Brushing off his tunic he gazed at me in reproach. "I know," I replied, calmly meeting his gaze with a steady look of my own. The two hobbits, who had stopped when they heard Legolas' yelp of surprise as he fell into my trap, slowly crept forward during our conversation and were now gazing at him beseechingly. "Please Legolas," gasped Pippin, "chase us no more, we are truly sorry!" Legolas favoured them with a glare, but I could see he was melting behind it. "You should not have given me cider without my knowledge or made bets on me," he growled, "there is a very good reason I do not drink. I think that the last time I was drunk, I shot my Father's attendant in the foot, mistaking him for an orc." I tried and failed to stifle my amusement at that comment and my misplaced efforts were rewarded with a further glare from Legolas, which I pointedly ignored. The hobbits did a better job of containing their amusement and within minutes they and Legolas were laughing together, forgiveness given on both sides. I felt a rush of dread as I realised that the time had come for the confrontation about the note I clutched in my hand, and with this in mind I began to tow Legolas away to a more secluded position. He did not question my tugging and followed amiably enough, convincing me to have Lord Elrond look him over when I was done; there had to be something wrong! The hobbits turned to leave giving us our privacy and momentarily forgot the wonders of Elven hearing as Merry muttered, "Well, now at least we can say that we outran an elf, and Legolas at that!" he muttered, his glee easily audible. Legolas turned with an annoyed snort, "It is well you did give me cider or I would have outrun you long before! Even elves get hangovers!" as realisation that Legolas had overheard their comment dawned the hobbits ran, fearing it would spark another chase, but Legolas merely laughed, turning to face me. "Why are you leading me away? Does something trouble you?" as he spoke he frowned slightly in concern, and at least one of my fears was acquiesced, there was nothing wrong with Legolas in that respect after all! "Yes, Legolas. Something troubles me deeply and I would not have you lie to me about it once I speak." His continence turned even more grave and he pulled me down so that we sat together on a nearby tree-stump. "Tell me." His brilliant blue eyes met mine and his gaze burned with intensity. "Osellë has departed this place," I spoke slowly, watching for the reaction my words would garner. He shook his head sadly, and I could tell from his eyes that he was wondering if this was all that troubled me. He opened his mouth to speak, but I held up a hand to silence him and continued, "She left me this," I handed him the note, and forced myself to watch as he read it. He took it from me and his expression changed from puzzlement, to sorrow, to grief. He placed it slowly on his knee and buried his head in his hands. I closed my eyes and gave a small sob of grief. It was as I had feared then. He did love her, and now I would have to give up everything I'd just received. The love of my life, a chance for eternal happiness and my heart, for it would surely break irreparably from this loss. I turned away and spoke my voice thick with tears barely held in check, "I shall begin to pack then. I would advise you inform Osellë of these proceedings with haste, she may already have reached the shores to the West." I spoke quickly as I rose not wanting to remain here a moment longer with my soon-to-be-ex husband. The weight of sorrow pulled heavily at my heart and threatened to pull me into darkness. I resisted the urge to scream, cry, do anything but remain calm and rational, even as I felt my heart shatter within me. Legolas' hand reached out and grabbed my arm and I raised my chin slightly, feeling my tightly leashed control waver, "I had no knowledge that Osellë felt so. For many centuries I harboured a hope that she would one day consent to be my wife, but she always seemed so withdrawn when I tried to bring it up." He sighed deeply as memories assailed him, " She was not always such. Before, when we were but children, she was the most open and caring soul you could wish to meet. But then orcs came and that Osellë was forever lost, though for many years I strove to re-find her." Legolas' voice was soft, lost in the past and my broken heart wept at the tenderness in it. Why did he torment me so? Could he not see, or did he no longer care, that I wanted only to leave this place and all I had lost? His next soft words were like a knife through my heart, "I did love her, more than the flower loves the morning dew." I could not control the quiet, but entirely heart-broken sob that wrenched itself from my lips as I fought against the grip on my wrist that kept me pinned by him. "But no more." His next words took my breath away and, though I still not dared turn to face him, hope twisted my stomach into knots. "She never returned my feelings, or so she led me to believe. I was always alone in this world: rejected by her and feeling as if I was doomed to forever be that way." The hollowness of his voice tore at my heart, and something inside me sprang free. Despite my own pain, I turned to pull him close and reassure him that I would not let him be alone. His next words came to my ears, muffled by my tunic; " I love you, not some shadow of Osellë that lingers in my heart. I love her now as a sister and nothing more. It is you that I wed and it is you that I will love until the end of days." His voice held total conviction and my emotions were still too raw to formulate any verbal response so I just held him tighter and relief coursed through me as I felt him grip me back even harder than I clutched him, if that were possible. Rain splashed down around me masking my tears with their cool drops and I could feel Legolas' own tears as they mingled with mine to splash onto the barren ground at our feet. The rain was fast staining the ground a dusty red and sobs racked my body with unusual force. My emotions still whirled in a vortex of confusion and there was but one thought that I clung onto in that mad world, 'He loves me.' Even as the rain poured down around us neither loosened their grip and I felt the heavy burden I had borne slowly wash away as the cool rain cleansed the glade.

* * *

NINE YEARS LATER

"When will you tell him then?" questioned Aswen, a wicked glint in her eye. I wrung my hands together nervously, "I have sent the guards to call for him. I said to tell him it was urgent. According to my calculations he should be here in three, two, one…" just as I finished Legolas burst through the door, his hair enchantingly ruffled from the wind. "Very good Vénea!" said Aswen below her breath as she stood to her feet to leave, "You'll have to tell me how you worked that out!" Aswen was my closest friend in Mirkwood and married to Legolas' cousin, Eldreth, who was worse than Legolas for staying out until all hours on a hunt. I rolled my eyes at her as she gathered her skirts and hastened to the door, sweeping a low curtsey to Legolas as she did so, "My Prince," she said reverently and left, I just caught a glimpse of her out-stretched tongue as the door thudded closed. I turned guilty eyes on Legolas, "What has happened, meleth-nin?" he questioned, taking me by the forearm and looking me over to check for obvious injuries. I wriggled in his grasp and when he did not release me I stomped on his foot in annoyance. With a short cry of 'Ouch!' he let go and hopped backwards, glaring reproachfully as he did so. "I am fine! I have some news that I need you to hear." I told him, edges of annoyance still lingering in my tone. He sat warily on the edge of our bed, twisting his leg so he could hold his injured toes more protectively in his hand. "Does it merit standing on my foot?" he questioned mildly, his annoyance fading to curiosity as I sat beside him. He turned to face me, one eyebrow raised. "Well?" I shifted uncomfortably, then making up my mind, just like that I blurted it out, "Legolas, a child is given to us!" The expression on his face said he thought I was joking. I moved my hands up to his shoulders and gave him a little shake, "I'm not lying to you, meleth-nin! A child is given to us!" the look of disbelief on his face changed slightly to become an expression of shocked disbelief. His flew wide open, "What? How?" he asked, his tone utterly perplexed. It was my turn at disbelief. "Surely you are not that naïve? We do not share a room purely to save space!" He was too surprised even to frown, "I know that!" he cried in exasperation, "But I did not think it was possible for Elves and humans to conceive." His eyes were still wide and I gave him a short hug out of sympathy. Aswen had said it was always a shock for the father. "Apparently you thought wrong." My eyes sparkled with mischief and he finally returned my smile, "But… this is wonderful! We shall have a celebration! Our very first child!" he grinned his exuberance madly. My eyes narrowed suspiciously, "What do you mean, 'first'?" I questioned warily. His only response was a wicked smile and he danced out of my reach so I could not even attempt to tickle it out of him. The guards, well aware of the antics of their playful monarchs, were quite expectant of what happened next. In fact when we burst out of the door moments later each armed with a pillow, I caught one of the guards checking the sun's position, as if wondering what was taking so long. I aimed a low blow with my feather-filled weapon, which Legolas easily parried, but I was prepared for that. As he opened his mouth to make a witty remark about my lack of skill in the art of pillow fighting, as he had done many times before, I flung my pillow at his mouth filling it with feathers. While he coughed at this unexpected mouthful, I forced all the air out of his lungs with a well placed swipe of my pillow and finished straddling him on the floor to a round of applause from the watching guards. I grinned down at him, "Now tell me," I said brightly, "what you meant by 'first'?"

* * *

It was some weeks later when all the celebrating was over that Legolas and I came to have the discussion I had most feared and anticipated. I was sat on the swing in the Palace grounds, rocking idly to and fro, pondering just who might be forming in my stomach when he appeared soundlessly behind me. Twisting he sat next to me and turned to face me fully, "Vénea, would you have me give up my immortality for you?" just like that! To say it was out of the blue was an understatement. Perhaps seeing my stunned look, he hastened to make reassurances, "I would not mind! I have lived the life of an immortal and the life of a mortal would be a welcome change!" I could see that he did not lie to me, the truth was apparent in his gaze, but was there was something further he was not telling me, "Your Father does not approve, does he?" I questioned softly. Legolas sighed and reached out and grasped my hand, "He does not, but I would defy my Father if it is your wish, for I believe it is my wish also. I have lost too many people dear to me and I do not wish to count you among them. My heart would surely break and I would die anyway." He spoke with sincerity, but I could not help but feel that his Father would break from losing his son and I would not have the fall of Mirkwood as well as the death of Legolas on my head, "Meleth-nin, I would not ask you to do that for me. You will have much to live for after my passing: Aragorn, your Kingdom, and your Father, to name but a few. I cannot expect them to give you up. It would kill Aragorn if you died first and well you and I know it. I do not ask this of you." He bowed his head as I spoke and gave no reply. I saw a solitary tear slip down his cheek and felt a sudden need to take action, "I will never truly be dead to you, meleth-nin. As long as you live so will I." I reached out a hand to press against his heart, "In here. You won't loose me. I won't let you, I'm not easily got rid of you know," I finished proudly, raising my chin in defiance and certainty. He gave a sobbing laugh, "Oh, that I know all too well!" he cried raising his head and turning so that his gaze met mine, "I have been trying for the past nine years!" It was only through the fact that the agility and speed of elves far surpasses that of mortals, that Legolas was spared the vengeful kick aimed at his shin.

Being pregnant is not as easy as it looks. My head throbbed almost constantly and morning sickness made my life a living hell until at least noon every day. Many of the attendants in the Palace of Mirkwood were very sympathetic, even though many had never undergone pregnancy themselves, the majority being male. It was a dull and achy existence and my temper was almost constantly frayed. It was early one morning, and the morning sickness was giving me what-for. My head felt like an entire clan of dwarves, all armed heavily with hammers had battered their way in and were now proceeding to smash everything in sight. It was a most unpleasant feeling and, to top it all, the infant in my stomach seemed to have decided that nine months were too long to wait and was trying to kick it's way out here and now. It was well that Legolas was out hunting with Aragorn, for I fear had either one of them approached me at that precise moment they would have met with a painful and untimely death. It was as I was struggling to open a window at the far end of one of the smaller halls of Mirkwood, hindered in no small measure by the gigantic lump that was my stomach, that I heard sniggering laughter from the other end of the hall. With a loud and very displeased sigh of annoyance I drew all the air possible into my lungs, thinking it to be Legolas and Aragorn returned early, and in high spirits no less! "Will you two quit laughing! I may not be an elf, but I can hear you just fine. If you would stop having a fit of the giggles at my expense I would like some help opening this damned window!" The laughter behind me stopped instantly, and I allowed myself a small, satisfied smirk as I heard the abashed silence that followed. My smirk morphed instantly as I heard the voices the laughter had belonged to, "We are sorry Vénea. We didn't mean to offend. It would be out pleasure to assist you in opening that 'damned window'." I recognised the voices of Elladan and Elrohir, and moving faster than I would have thought possible for a human eight months pregnant, crossed to hall to them in record time. They looked rather taken aback at this sudden flurry of movement from me and watched apprehensively for a moment, as if they were afraid I was going to come over and pull their pointed ears off for some reason. I could feel the tension ebb out of their bodies as I flung my arms around their necks and cried joyfully, "El! Ro! It's been so long! There's so much you have to see, I've had all plant pots, completely removed from the Palace, nasty useless things, and Legolas has been busy out in the woods; the spiders are all but gone!" I grinned at them happily and would have continued on, but for the hand clamped gently over my mouth. Elrohir held his hand there until he was sure I would not speak when he removed it, as his hand dropped back down to his side Elladan spoke up, nudging his twin with a meaningful side-ways glance at me, "It is good to know some things never change, eh brother?" I sent an evil glare at both of them. "Laugh if you will," I retorted, in mock superiority, "But remember it is the Princess of Mirkwood to whom you speak and I could have you removed from this Palace just as easily as any plant pot, perhaps more so." I narrowed my eyes at the twins, who shifted uncomfortably where they stood, "Don't think the guards, nor Legolas, have forgotten that trick you played the last time you were here." Elrohir winced slightly, but Elladan, grinned as memory finally dawned. "Oh yes! That was a good one though, was it not? The look on Legolas' face when he found those five swamp frogs in his bed was priceless!" I couldn't help it, I dissolved into laughter, yes, and even I had to admit it had been incredibly funny! "He didn't stop checking the bed every night for weeks, even after you'd left!" I managed to stammer out between fits of laughter. Elrohir threw his left arm over my shoulder and Elladan did the same with his right. "I believe…" started Elladan, "… we have much to discuss." Finished Elrohir. A wicked smile played on all three of our faces we disappeared into the garden, embarrassing tales of my husband springing into my mind by the bucket load.

* * *

The trees rustled slightly attempting to warn the mortal and two Elves that frolicked under their boughs. The two elves were momentarily distracted, but they had not the way with trees as the wood elves and they could not hear the whispered warning that the trees told of. Hidden in the shrubbery a she-elf watched the scene. She heard the warnings of the trees and knew what they were trying to do. Rob her of her prize. Well, they wouldn't succeed, she thought sweetly, an evil smile marring her beautiful features. That woman would never know what hit her…

* * *

Deep in the woods Legolas' sharp hearing picked up the distant noise of riders fast approaching. Reaching out swiftly he grasped the sleeve of the ranger next to him, and with a swift nod of his head motioned that they should take cover. The ranger complied silently, picking up moments later what had alerted his Elven companion. The drumming of hoof-beats was getting closer. With a wild snort two horses burst into the clearing and the two Elven riders on their backs dismounted with ease and grace. Aragorn gave a small cry of joy, it was his brothers, Elladan and Elrohir, he broke from his cover in the bushes and hastened into the opening to greet them, "My brothers! What brings you to Mirkwood?" Legolas appeared at his elbow moments later, and, ignoring their brother totally, Elladan and Elrohir turned to face the Elven Prince. "Legolas, Vénea is taken!" Elrohir gasped out, his eyes wild with fear and anger. "We were attacked near the Palace by a she-elf and she took Vénea, insisting that we find the Prince of Mirkwood and bring him or she would kill her where she stood." Elrohir looked down, unable to continue, so Elladan spoke up, "We would have tried to free her, but she held a blade so near her throat that we dared not." He looked down then also, fearing Legolas' gaze would reflect the shame and failure shown in his own. Legolas laid his hand briefly on the shoulders of the twins and spoke calmly, "My friends, you did all you could. I would rather you came to tell me of her capture than her death." As soon as the words were out of his mouth Legolas had remounted his horse and was steering it at a gallop back towards the Palace, Elladan and Elrohir soon on his tail. Aragorn was left behind, "Hey wait, you guys! I don't have a horse! Wait!" None of the three elves disappearing into the forest heeded his cry and, muttering some very creative curses in dwarvish under his breath Aragorn set off at a run for the Palace.

* * *

The room I had been pulled into was dark. Or at least, either it was dark or someone had pulled a bag over my head. I hoped very much that it was the latter as, from the smell that surrounded my nostrils, if I was purely in a dark room it would have had to have been a latrine of some kind, and an atrocious one at that. I wrinkled my nose in disgust and spoke aloud to my unseen attacker, "This is terrible. I had expected, if I was ever to be kidnapped, that my captor would have had at least a vague notion of style." This earned me a rather hard cuff on the upside of the head, which was as I had expected, but at least it proved one thing. A very small, very feminine hand had delivered that cuff. I spoke up once more, despite the ringing in my ears that lingered from the last time, "What has this Middle-Earth come to if women are now forced to kidnap others to see their demands met?" I cringed slightly, expecting another cuff and was surprised to find none seemed forthcoming. Straightening a little from my crouched position, I was hopeful that my comment had taken her so by surprise she had neglected to punish me. No such luck, the minute I eased out my aching spine (could morning sickness have returned at a more inopportune moment?) she delivered a crushing blow to my chest and I saw stars. As I lay winded on the ground I heard for the first time the voice of my assailant and, to my dismay, it was distinctly Elven and distinctly female. "You, human," she emphasised the word like the insult it was intended to be, "are in no position to make witty comments. Either the Princess of Mirkwood is brought for me to dispose of, or I shall kill you." I could almost hear the triumphant sneer in her voice. Great, I thought wearily with a surprising touch of humour: either way it doesn't look like I'm going to get out of this alive.

* * *

Legolas dismounted from his horse with speed spurred on by worry. Osellë had been right, he thought despondently, he had had far more trouble trying to keep his wife out of mischief than he had ever had with Aragorn. His features hardened into a stony mask, if anyone tried to harm his wife, they would fell the sharp edge of his sword. His features were still grim as he sprang nimbly up the steps and towards the place the attendants had seen Vénea dragged. He could only pray she wasn't in too far over her head this time.

* * *

I lay on the floor of the small room, gasping for breath. I was certain that it was a room now, as the bag had been removed some moments before so that I could see the blade she was about to press into my side. The pain came in blurring waves of nausea and I struggled not to give to the darkness that pulled relentlessly at the edges of my mind, she had not just stabbed me with blade as I had originally feared, no, this elf was not that direct. She had heated it slowly over a fire she had set burning in the room, forcing me to watch as the metal glowed first red then white. Bringing it up near my face so I could feel the blistering heat that rose from it, she had taken to small measure of delight in seeing me writhe as she pressed it flat against the vulnerable skin just above my hip. She repeated this many times, until I felt I was ready to give in to the bliss of oblivion. Only one thing kept me from slipping away. The distraught voice I could hear mirroring my own screams from just outside the wooden door that separated us, I would recognise that voice anywhere. For him, for Legolas, I fought the darkness' call as long as I was able. My tormentor moved away from me and my breathing came slightly easier as my raging terror dimmed minutely. Though my heart was in my throat, I could feel it pressing there every time I swallowed, I spoke around the lump, "Legolas! Please do not stay and hear this! Just leave and fetch the Princess." I spoke and knew full well that Legolas would understand my meaning. I wanted him to leave, go to our chamber, go anywhere, just not to stay and listen to me scream in all my mortal weakness. He responded, as I had already known he would, "No, Venea! I will not abandon you here to this fate! I shall fetch the Princess." I had expected the first part but the last sentence caught me off my guard. What did he mean 'fetch the Princess', I was the Princess! Surely this evil turn of events had not caused him to lose his mind? I was stopped from further wondering by a dark whisper in my ear, "A good rapport you seem to have with the Prince. I am glad I picked you. I wonder what his spouse will think when he sacrifices her life for yours. Are you perchance his bit on the side? Tell me…" she leaned close each word dripping with dark dread, "does the Prince of Mirkwood like it rough?" I squirmed away in revulsion from her words, "Back, you foul creature!" I screamed, "How dare you speak such to me? Know you not that I am-" I was cut off from saying the words that would surely have ended my life, by two figures bursting through the door. Aswen, her pointed ears hidden by her long black tresses, stole the words I had been about to utter, "I am the Princess of Mirkwood." I was momentarily taken aback, but my horror soon overcame my shock. This was what Legolas had meant by fetching the Princess! But, I could not allow Aswen to take such a risk for my sake! I opened my mouth to issue a denial, but the she-elf that had captured me cuffed me once more and, while I was reeling from the sharp blow, wedged a hefty scrap of material into my jaw. I spluttered in revulsion, but the material was firmly stuck, I was gagged. I could only watch wide-eyed with dread at the scene that was playing out before my eyes.

* * *

The she-elf approached Aswen slowly, appraising her. Taking in every detail of her fine gown and delicate crown, she nodded as if satisfied and took a sharp step forward, as if to catch Aswen by the wrists. Legolas intercepted this move. Placing himself swiftly between Aswen and the she-elf he brought his hands up in denial. "No! You must deliver the girl first." The she-elf seemed intoxicated by his closeness, and her next words were slurred and dreamy, "You are so beautiful, my Prince. What need do you have of two such wenches as lie before you now? Agree to marry me and you shall have a real woman!" Legolas shuddered with revulsion. This elf in front of him seemed to be no woman, virtue of features did not make for beauty and his hands shook at the prospect of actually having to touch this creature. But, to save his wife and her loyal friend… "Very well. I do not deny I have wished long for a real woman to join me. Set them loose and I will wed you as soon as is fit." Legolas' voice trembled slightly in horror and he stood next to the she-elf, his body leaning back as far away from her as was possible. The elf seemed enraptured by his words, "Soon…" she echoed, and her eyes fixed on his, although she failed to notice the disgust in their depths. " Give me a taste," she demanded, "A physical sign of your oath." She started forwards as if to kiss him, but he dodged back. "Patience. Only on our wedding night can I do such." His voice cracked as the lips came forward, halting only inches from his own, and his body shook for what he might still have to endure. She looked disappointed, but satisfied at his words and, still in that dreamlike state, she approached Vénea to make her stand and prepared to hand her over to the waiting Prince.

* * *

I could see the faint tremors that wracked Legolas' body and the revulsion he forced himself to hide. I strained desperately against my bonds and the gag that inhibited my speech. He should not have to endure this for me! I ceased my struggles as the she-elf approached me once more, her eyes dilated and dreamy, her mouth slightly agape. I was repulsed. How had I ever thought her beautiful? She seemed to me now more hideous than all the orcs I had fought in that last battlefield of Middle-Earth and a hundred times more evil. I spat at her feet as she stooped to raise me, and she halted momentarily to favour me with a hideous grin, "Sore loser are we, little human? The better woman has won and you can't handle that your Prince has abandoned you so readily or so happily?" Her words did not provoke a response from me; I knew them to be untruths. I had seen the revulsion in Legolas' eyes even as she seemed blind to it. Without a further word she finished untying me and thrust me into the waiting arms of Legolas and Aswen. I wanted nothing more than to collapse there and then into that embrace, to hide behind Legolas and never have to face the outside world again. I could feel my severely bruised courage cry out under all the pressure it was put under, but it held strong, and so, minimising the pain that showed on my face, I span to face my former captor. She stood tall and proud but a few feet away, confident of her victory and her ownership of the Prince's heart. It was almost laughable. How could someone be so totally wrong, and yet at the same time be so confident of being totally right? I was almost moved to pity, but not quite, after all she had tortured me. I shifted my position slightly, assuming the stance Legolas had taught me, not long after our marriage, that would allow for rapid movement in any direction at a moment's notice. I had a feeling I was going to need some very rapid movement if I was to out distance the response to the upcoming confrontation. Legolas began it. Stepping swiftly forward he placed himself between Aswen and I and that mad she-elf. "I would know the name of my future bride." Said Legolas softly, but I could detect the steel edge behind his words, the approaching she-elf, however, seemed oblivious to the impeding danger. "I am Mamë, and, as your future wife, to be referred to as Princess." Her voice was haughty and utterly confident, I grinned inwardly, little did she know how wrong she was. Legolas gave a slight incline of the head that she took to be an agreement, but I recognised it for the cover-up that it was: Legolas was bowing his head to hide his fury at her words.

It was almost as if I was watching the entire scene with a dream-like distance and, somewhere, that far off part of me thought with mild detachment, 'Legolas will leap to the right and aim for her left shoulder.' I observed with comfortable satisfaction as my husband did just that only a few seconds later. Driving with his shoulder to the right he drew his bow, that he had concealed in the folds of his cloak and notched an arrow in one fluid movement. Taking swift aim he let it fly lose where it struck true, piercing her left shoulder and effectively pinning her to the wall. His shoulders and chest heaving with barely contained fury he strode to where the she-elf, Mamë, was tearing at the arrow in her shoulder in vain. She let out a soft whimper as he came close, "But, you love me…" Legolas threw his head back and turned away, "I do not love you, Mamë, nor will I ever. You come into my home kidnap my wife and expect me to love you? You are worse than the orcs." He spat the last sentence out at her and his eyes blazed with a red-hot fury I have rarely seen in those contained depths. This was enough to break me from my detached state, though I wished moments later that it had not. As I made a move to step forward and gain the side of my husband, white-hot agony lanced through me and I gave a sharp cry, stumbling terribly, as the pain slammed into me. I crashed into the wall, the entire room spinning most uncomfortably and I let loose a very creative curse in dwarvish that, were words seen in colour, would have turned the air blue. I was not alone against that wall for long though, moments later Legolas was at my side and the anger I had seen seconds before was replaced by heart-breaking fear and worry. If it were possible I would say that seeing that was even worse and, had I had the breath to spare, I would have cried out with the sheer misery of it. As it was I allowed Legolas and Aswen to assist me from that chamber, their voices seeming to echo to my ears from a place far distant from Middle-Earth. They left Mamë there, in that dark room, giving strict instructions to the Palace guards that she was to have a trial before the council of Mirkwood and suffer punishment as they saw fit. Legolas would have nothing more to do with her and her final cry rang dismally in my ears as I was hurried out into the burning light of day, "Come back, Legolas! Please don't leave me here!" No one took any heed and within seconds I had been hustled far out of range of hearing her voice. Each step for me was agony and I stumbled often, forcing Legolas to compensate for my extra weight. He moved swiftly, every movement fluid and smooth, but they still seemed to jar against every aching bone and muscle and my battered body protested violently against the motion. I leaned heavily on Legolas drawing comfort from both his nearness and support and his calm words. My free hand was ensnared in the vice-like grip of Aswen, who had seized it some moments earlier, and I gazed dimly at our intertwined fingers, the first spikes of worry assailing me as I realised I could not feel her grip, though her knuckles were turning white with the pressure of it. I swallowed hard and turned towards Legolas, feeling very much like a small, frightened child and desperately needing his reassurance, "I can't feel my hand," I whispered dejectedly and I could feel my lower lip trembling without my permission. He turned his face towards me and his eyes shone deceptively bright with unshed tears, he pressed his free hand to the side of my face and spoke softly with a confidence in his words that betrayed the fear in his eyes, "That's ok, meleth-nin, that's ok. You'll be fine, we're taking you to a healer, you'll be fine." His voice did not tremble in the least but he gripped me tighter and pulled me closer as if somehow that would help. I just had time to wonder briefly whether he had said what he did to reassure me or to convince himself before we burst into a room that I recognised as the palace infirmary. Legolas and Aswen lowered me down with utmost care onto one of the many beds there, but even so this gentle movement made me wince. In an attempt to block out the pain and the worsening numbness that was spreading through my limbs I thought back to the last time I had visited this particular room. If memory served me the last time I was in the infirmary I was being treated for twisting my ankle after falling over a plant pot and not torture and its aftershock.

* * *

Legolas' heart felt like it was trying to pound its way out of his chest. His throat felt constricted and tight and his stomach was twisting and knotting and making him feel like he was about to throw up. His hands clenched and unclenched on the soft material of the bed as he watched the healers tending to his wife. Her face was pale and her eyes seemed far off and unfocused almost as if she was retreating away from the pain and fear, to somewhere safe inside herself. He wanted nothing more than to go up to her and talk to her, to bring her back and hold her close and vow never to let anything hurt her again. But something stopped him, some dark sense of déjà-vu that told him he'd said those words before. He'd promised a thousand times not to let anything hurt her and what had happened? He could not keep her from harm, he couldn't fight away all the pain and, the thought struck him like a physical blow, this was all his fault. If he wasn't a Prince, if he wasn't always getting himself into problems and scrapes then she would never have been hurt like this. He gasped as the sudden realisation of the pain he'd caused her washed over him: coming home injured after some mishap with Aragorn, the pain and fear in her eyes, people demanding to see him, angry voices, threats of death and torture, verbal abuse and more, instances of other torture, his own or hers, all that pain… his fault. His eyes went wide with shock as the realisation hit him like a slap in the face. He was putting her in danger; his very love would be the cause of her death. He stood in shock, he had to leave, get away from her, and make sure his love would never hurt her again. His mind and body numb with pain and shock he turned and began to walk slowly towards the door.

* * *

I saw Legolas looking at me, even through the haze of pain. I saw as emotions of pain and guilt warred behind his eyes and some sudden revelation hit him. He turned to leave my room. I cried out in sudden confusion, "Legolas, please!" I didn't even know what I was pleading with him about, I just didn't want to be left alone here, I was already scared and his abandoning me was far worse torture than I had already endured. I writhed weakly on the bed I had been placed upon, but my body would not obey my frantic commands, I couldn't rise, I couldn't stop him from leaving me! I cried out again in desperation, "Come back, Legolas! Please don't leave me here!" unconsciously mirroring the words of the she-elf Mamë as we left her in that dark room. My voice broke as I cried out and still he did not turn to face me. Fear and desperation fuelling my movements I threw the last of my strength into a desperate attempt at movement, the force of it rolling me off the bed. I landed heavily on my knees and gave a sharp moan at the pain that resounded through my body. I tried to tell myself that it didn't matter, and with one thought on my brain I tried frantically to rise, one word tearing itself from my lips, "Legolas!"

* * *

Legolas heard his wife call out to him for a third time, each sounding more frantic than the last. He could bear it no more, whirling on his heel he span to face her, he knew he needed to leave, but he couldn't. It would break his own heart even as he could hear the heartbreak in hers. He was ill prepared for what he saw next. Vénea was on the floor, he could see the sheets that tangled about her legs and surmised that she had rolled off the bed in a frantic attempt to reach him. Even as she lay, hopelessly tangled, pain etched onto every contour of her face she was trying desperately to rise, moaning his name softly as if she no longer had the strength to shout it. He was horrified. Using all of his Elven speed he flew to her side, and cradled her to him, desperate to comfort her and stop her from injuring herself further. As soon as she felt his touch she reacted, throwing herself at him, and fastening her arms tightly about his waist. She tightened her grip effectively pinning him in place as if she was scared that if she loosened her grip even a little he would leave again. It came dangerously close to breaking his heart. He pulled her further into his embrace and held her close, rocking gently and speaking soothingly into her ear. She kept her fierce grip on him even as she raised her head to speak, "Please…" she whispered her voice breaking with the weight of tears unshed, "don't leave me. I'm scared and I don't want to be alone." She looked imploringly into his eyes as if searching for reassurance that he would stay, her grip never loosening. He gave a heart-broken sob as he watched another solitary tear slip down her already tear-stained face, and pulled her even closer, trying to draw all of her pain into him and make her well again, "I will never leave you. I promise, I promise…" his own voice broke as he spoke, of course he could never leave her, how could he have been so foolish? It would kill them both. She seemed reassured by his voice, but still needed further confirmation of his words, "Where were you going?" she asked softly, her grip loosening minutely. "I asked you to stay and you didn't listen. I thought you were angry," her voice was soft and with all the innocent pleading of a small child, wanting to know why bad things happen to good people. Her pupils were dilated as she gazed into his eyes, making her look far younger than her twenty-six years. Legolas gave another soft sob, "I was wrong, I was very wrong," He implored her to believe him, his brilliant blue eyes silently pleading with her, "I love you, I do. I won't go, I didn't mean to hurt you. I never wanted this…" his own voice was cut off as pain rose violently in his stomach and in his heart and tears choked his words and blurred his vision. She released her grip immediately, reaching up to dry his tears with a shaking hand. "Hush, now," she whispered softly, the roles reversed, "It's ok. I understand. Don't cry, please, I love you too." She used the edge of her bloodstained sleeve to wipe tenderly at his eyes, still speaking softly to calm him. "It's all right, don't be sad, it's all alright now." She spoke to him softly, her words gradually penetrating the mind-numbing guilt that had paralysed him. She had managed to raise herself up onto her elbows, and was gazing levelly into his eyes, talking him out of his daze. Eventually he responded and shaking his head slightly at his own weakness, he rocked back on his heels, and pulled her gently to her feet. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking slightly even then. She gave no verbal response, just raised her hand to brush it lightly against his cheek, her mouth forming a small gentle smile, "I know," she whispered. "Excuse me, but we have more pressing matters to attend to." Came a booming voice to the couple's right and they both turned to face it, surprised by the sound cutting into their private world. The countenance of the healer who had spoken was sombre as she spoke, "Her waters have broken."

* * *

The next three hours were the worst of my life. If I thought the pregnancy was bad, this was at least ten thousand times worse. My world blurred into one unending tunnel of pain and shouting voices, sometimes giving encouragement, sometimes commands. Through it all I never let go of the warm, strong hand that was firmly in my grip. Legolas never stirred from my side and I could hear him whispering to me in the brief moments where I could concentrate on his words, "Please Vénea, stay with me, meleth-nin. I cannot loose you." I had very little strength left to respond with, so I just squeezed his hand extra tightly and met his anxious gaze with my own. It seemed like a lifetime before the midwife that was tending me gave a cry of triumph, "There it is! Your baby is out!" I gave one huge sigh of relief and turned my head towards my husband whose expression matched my own. Minutes later I was handed a soft blanketed bundle, a mixture of curiosity and fear danced in my stomach as I peeled back an edge to gaze upon the face of my child. The most beautiful baby I had ever seen gazed back at me, tiny little pointed ears just visible on the soft material and a little hand reached out towards my face. I gave a soft gasp and extended my own hand towards the child. It was quickly snatched and held in a firm little grip and the baby chuckled softly up at me. My heart was lost. I looked up at Legolas who was peering curiously over my arm for a glimpse of our child and held the precious bundle out to him, though I was loathe to let it go. He took it and held it close whispering softly in Elvish to the child. The midwife approached us, "You have a healthy baby boy," she announced and I smiled hugely. Legolas turned towards me, joy lighting up all of his features and giving him an almost otherworldly beauty. He moved to sit on the side of my bed and passed the baby back to me, his features still wildly happy, his slender hand finding and tightly gripping my own. "What will you name him, meleth-nin?" he questioned softly and I gazed up at him in wonder, "Should we not both decide?" I asked. He shook his head slightly, "I want nothing more than to have my wife in my arms and our boy between us, and that I already have. The naming is for you." I smiled at him gratefully before turning my attention to our son. I gazed long into the blue eyes and cherubic features, a whole host of names playing on my tongue, but only one seemed to fit. "Keldarion," I announced, and Legolas smiled at me happily. "It fits," he said softly, bending to kiss me on the lips. "Keldarion it shall be." I was gazing happily at my husband and son, pondering on just how quickly things can go from being very bad to being very good, when the situation changed again. I felt a violent twinge of pain from my stomach and my face contorted in agony. Hurriedly I placed the babe in the arms of his father as the convulsions rocked me again. "Apparently you have a sibling, little one," I ground out between my gritted teeth. Legolas started forward in shock. "I am having contractions," I explained slowly, fighting waves of nausea, "Good things never come in ones," I managed to make the comment before the contractions returned with a vengeance and coherent speech passed behind possibility or desire.

This pain was worse than any I had endured or even imagined before. There was no let up in its intensity and I was in too much pain even to cry out with the torment of it. The healers hovered nearby, and I could hear their anxious whispering, even though they strove to keep their voices low, "She will not survive the night," one whispered, her voice tinged with sorrow. "We will lose either her or the baby, perhaps both, if we do not act now." Another spoke up, her voice firm with authority, although her words opened a chasm of heart-pounding dread in the pit of my stomach. "A choice must be made: the mother or the child. Time is running out," They were speaking among themselves, but Legolas heard their words and I saw him bow his head, unimaginable pain etched onto every contour of his face. The contractions lessened for a moment to more bearable proportions and I summoned the last of my strength to speak, "Meleth-nin," I whispered hoarsely, my voice choked. He heard my words and span at once to face me, his eyes great wells of sorrow. "Save the child," I told him, knowing that my request would mean my own death. He shook his head, horror growing on his face, "No…" he whispered, his voice soft with heartbreak, "You cannot ask me to do this. I love you, I cannot let you die." I shook my head, even that slight motion causing an ache of tiredness to descend on my already weary limbs. I knew I was failing. "I am already dead." I said brutally, and he flinched visibly at my words, shaking his head frantically in denial and opening his mouth to contradict me, I cut him off before he could speak. "If you truly love me grant me this. Save our child," my voice was husky from being unused, but it held strong, and I was proud of the fact that it did not tremble. He sat there shaking, his mouth opening and closing silently, tears pouring freely down his face. There was not much strength left to me, but I forced myself to action. I could not leave him like this. Moving my right arm out from under me, I extended it towards him, loosely catching his shoulder in my grip. He needed no force to follow my gentle guidance and it was with ease that I pulled him to rest against my shoulder. "I love you," I whispered, my voice fading away to almost nothing. He raised his head to press his forehead against mine and spoke with determination, "I love you too," he held onto me tightly, as if he could keep me anchored to this world by sheer force of his will. I knew it would not be possible, I could not hold on for much longer and there was still so much that I wanted to say, that would never now be said. I stifled the urge to sob for what I would now never do or see, never grow old, never see my children play or laugh. It was all too much and I couldn't stifle the low whine that wrenched itself from my throat. "I don't want to go," I whispered, barely audible even to my own ears, "So don't," Legolas replied, his desperation growing, "Don't go! Don't heed the summons to Mandos! Don't leave me here alone!" I swallowed hard, his words and the desolation behind them burning a jagged hole in my heart. "You will never lose me, remember?" I smiled at him sadly through a veil of my own tears. "I'm in here." I whispered pressing my hand against his heart. He snatched my hands up in his and held onto them, tears slipping unnoticed down his cheeks. I knew I was dying and now so did he. I drew in a deep breath and pressed him against my chest drawing another ragged breath, I began to sing, "Lay down, your sweet and weary head. Night is falling, you have come to journey's end." As I sang my voice gradually began to fade and my vision to dim. I could feel Legolas' sobs shaking against my chest, but the sensation was beginning to feel further and further away. It was with this dimming vision that I beheld Osellë burst through the door and hasten to my bedside. I managed a weak smile, but my song did not falter. She was here. That was a turn of events I did not expect, though it gladdened my heart much to see her. My attention was focused solely on my weak and fading notes so completely by now that I could form no words to say my final goodbye to either of them, but I was glad they were here, at the end of all things. I tried hard not to let the melody falter, but it was getting harder and harder to go on, my voice was by now a mere thread of itself and even that was waning. My voice cracked and stopped and I managed to summon the composure to give my last command, "Hope," I croaked out, praying that the two of them would understand. Slowly I took one of Legolas' hands that clung tightly onto mine, and joined it with the hand of Osellë, hoping they would understand what I meant. They would need to comfort each other, after my passing, after all I would not be there to help them. I gave one last weak smile, my final parting gift, and my eyes drifted shut. I could feel and hear the darkness rushing around me like the beat of a thousand wings, echoing into the night. Far off voices called my name, but I could not reply, though I strained desperately to. There was a strong urge tugging at me and I could not disobey. I struggled against its force, straining to return to the calling voices that were growing ever more distant to my ears, but it dragged me ever nearer to the dark that was closing in on all sides. I gave a final sigh, I was defeated, I had not the strength to struggle any longer and my mortal body was spent. I gave a final scream, one name as a last resort to keep the dark tide at bay as the darkness rushed at me, but it was no good and silence claimed me. Silencing what I would never speak. I was lost to the night and the beating of the wings receded into the gloom.

* * *

_And all will turn to silver glass _

_A light on the water _

_All souls pass_

_Hope fades_

_Into the world of night_

_Through shadows falling_

_Out of memory and time_

_Don't say_

_We have come now to the end_

_White shores are calling_

_You and I will meet again._

_**Annie Lennox – Into the West**_

* * *

Vénea gave one last sad smile, before her eyes closed to the outside world for the last time. Legolas' control broke and, wrenching both hands loose, he fell onto his knees beside her cradling her head in his hands. "No, no, no…" he muttered, shaking his head and rocking slightly where he was crouched. His head fell forward and his eyes closed, almost as if he was seeking to follow where his wife already trod. He muttered things to low for even the near-by elves to hear, and for a short time he was silent. Then a cry was ripped from him with all the force of a hurricane, a blast that nearly deafened everyone who heard it with the aching call of loss, despair and heartbreak, "VENEA!" his wife gave no response, lying still as death on the bed. He bowed his head over her still body, his tears a flood, soaking the sheets on which her pale hand lay. The silence of the room was thick and sorrow and despair lay heavily upon it like a heavy coat of dust, suffocating and toxic. One final noise disturbed the silence, like a final sigh, almost a scream, of breath, "Legolas…" the voice was so faint many thought it later to have been just a dream. The woman on the bed let out a long breath, like she had just been released from a very hard life. She did not breathe in again. Legolas stared down at the bed in silence, his mouth working silently, but no sound escaped the barrier that seemed to have formed there. His eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed soundlessly to the floor. The room was covered in a shroud of silence and not a sound disturbed the two pale, unmoving figures that lay, as if discarded, within it. The rain began to beat slowly on the roof, as if the very Gods were crying on that mournful day. Pit pat, pit pat, nothing moved and the rain only got heavier. 


	7. Heaven Can Wait

**Part Seven **

**Heaven Can Wait**

_Come back to me, come back to me_

_Life is blank and I can't breathe_

_You're not dead because you can't be_

_Love is eternal and I won't believe_

_Dust gathers on our windowsill_

_I look up and know what I lack_

_Can you see me as I still see you?_

_You know that I love you but you can't come back_

_**Vénea – Come Back** _

TEN YEARS LATER

Aragorn held tightly to the wounded elf in his arms. "Legolas, you fool!" he ground out, fear and anxiety making his tone and words sharp. "What were you thinking?" The elf he cradled did not respond. His usually bright eyes were listless and he turned his head away from the sharp gaze of the ranger above him. Aragorn resisted the urge to cry out in frustration; what was troubling the elf so? Aragorn turned the face of his friend towards him, forcing the Prince to meet his eyes. "Is it Vénea?" he questioned softly, his once frustrated expression softening slightly. The elf he held gave the faintest of nods, but it was enough. Aragorn let lose a desperate sigh. "When you agreed to come on this campaign I knew it was too soon." He muttered half to himself and half to Legolas who still lay motionless. It was to his surprise when Legolas responded, his words weary with sorrow, "I still miss her, Aragorn. How can things go on as if nothing has changed?" Aragorn shifted his position slightly, turning the elf onto his back so he could face him fully. "It is never easy, mellon-nin," said Aragorn gently, pushing back the worry over his friend's wounds back for the moment. It was Legolas' mind that demanded the attention now. "She would not want you to live your life in sorrow over her. Did you not say she told you not to give up your immortality for her?" At the slight nod from the fair being in his arms Aragorn continued, "There you are then. She knew she would die someday and you would live. Neither of you expected just how soon that time would come, but that does not change her wishes. She would never have wanted you to live immortally in sorrow, and well you know it." Legolas did not move in is arms and eventually Aragorn was forced to check if he was still conscious. Leaning over, he brushed the sweat-soaked strands of hair away from the fair face, to see his friend's blue eyes filled with tears, and his cheeks already wet with them. Not for the first time that day Aragorn sighed. Shifting again, so that he could pull the elf into his embrace he cradled the elf's head against his chest and spoke soothingly as Legolas' control broke and he sobbed into Aragorn's already damp tunic, his hands clenching on the soft leather. Aragorn held him until the sobs faded into ragged breathing and then he pulled back slightly to stare into the tear-stained face of the proud Elven Prince. "I don't think I would have been able to do that had it been anyone but you here mellon-nin." he whispered softly as Aragorn smiled down at him. "Thank you," Aragorn's grin widened, "I am glad that I am no one else Legolas, for you would surely have killed them with those glares you were shooting me earlier, when I hustled you off the battlefield." Legolas' countenance turned sombre and Aragorn decided he could wait no longer for an explanation of his friend's actions. "Just exactly what were you doing out there Legolas?" he questioned the elf, "I saw you attempt many foolish things, almost as if you were on a kamikaze mission." He attempted a soft laugh, meaning his final sentence as a joke, but it caught in his throat when he saw the flash of guilt in the eyes of his friend. "You were?" he asked incredulously. "But, why? You have children Legolas! And it would break me to lose you now!" The elf stared at the ground for a moment before responding. "I have children, Aragorn. Children who have no mother! And what use am I to them? An inexperienced father, too lost in mourning for his wife even to see their first years!" he finished, anger at himself and his own weakness flashing in his eyes. Aragorn rocked back on his heels, "You cannot let the loss of Vénea break you, Legolas! Well I know that you loved her, but she is gone, and no amount of mourning will bring her back! You have to move on from this." Legolas looked down at the floor, shame burning in his eyes, "I am not fit to be a father Aragorn. If I could not protect their mother how will I protect them? I failed her and I do not wish to fail anyone else. I planned to end it, but I failed even that and now I have failed you by allowing you to see me thus!" he finished his voice disgusted and pounded his fist against the earth floor in anger. Aragorn was too shocked to move. Legolas had never before spoken to him of his blame over Vénea's death and this sudden revelation was shocking. Legolas continued to beat his fist against the floor, the pounding gradually getting harder and harder until blood began to trickle down his wrist. It was the sight of this blood that spurred Aragorn into action. Catching Legolas' hand swiftly in his own, he forcefully turned the elf so that he was made to stare into Aragorn's face. "You are not to blame for the death of your wife. By the Valar, Legolas! No one could have prevented it! But now you have two sons, who are desperately in need of a father. Return to them my friend, do not make Vénea's last sacrifice in vain!" Legolas' sighed wearily, "You are right, as usual," he sighed, closing his eyes briefly against the pain that seemed to radiate from every part of his body. "But I cannot raise them alone…" Aragorn pressed his hand on top of Legolas' and rested his forehead against that of his friend, "You do not have to." He said. Bleary blue eyes flew open and locked onto the silver ones of the ranger in confusion. "Who takes care of your children as we speak?" questioned Aragorn. Legolas' brow furrowed, "Osellë, but…" Aragorn held up a hand to silence him. "But nothing." He said firmly, "I have heard you speak many times of how you love her and I know that she loves you. Who could be a better foster mother for your children?" Legolas' brow furrowed once more, "Aragorn, how could I marry someone after what happened last time? You ask too much." He made as if to roll away, but Aragorn's firm hand on his shoulder stopped him. "Legolas Greenleaf, you will marry Osellë and you will be happy with her, or I will personally pull those pointed ears of yours off that thick head!" Legolas gave a small smile that did not quite reach his eyes. "Aragorn," he said gently, "how can I marry someone I do not…" Legolas' words were cut off as Aragorn clamped a firm hand over his mouth, silencing the words he had yet to speak. "Your children need a mother Legolas, and you need a wife," he said softly, his words catching in his throat. Legolas closed his eyes and sank back wearily against his friend. "You are right," he whispered. "Very well, I shall announce my intentions to Osellë on my return to Mirkwood." His eyes remained closed and he said nothing further, but a solitary tear slipped down his cheek and the soft sounds of sobbing could be heard from the tent long after Aragorn had fallen asleep.

* * *

The wedding of Legolas and Osellë was a quiet affair, held under the lofty boughs of the forest of Mirkwood. The trees themselves rustled in anticipation as the Prince and his new bride walked slowly down the aisle after the ceremony. The reception was a small, but happy affair and this time chocolate cake was most definitely avoided by all present. Aragorn and Arwen were present to offer their good wishes to the couple, and King Thranduil and many members of his court turned up to offer their support. There was a little dancing but it was soon decided that all involved would retire to their rooms for the night, giving the couple all the chance they needed to consummate their vows. No storms occurred that night but at some point past midnight a lone wind howled past the bedchamber of the newly-weds. Not even Elven hearing could properly make it out, but to the casual listener it could have sounded like the forlorn whisper of one desolate word. Softly, in that wind a female voice cried out in mourning, "Legolas!"

The two twins grew up strong under the watchful eyes of their father and Osellë. Keldarion and Estel, so named after his mother's final word and Legolas' dearest friend, were two bundles of mischief, with a quirky sense of humour that was obviously inherited from both their mother and father. Both took on the Elven traits of their father and had his luxurious blonde hair, and the wild blue eyes shared by both their parents. They had acquired Legolas' skill with a bow, his stubbornness, loyalty and even his beautiful facial features. To look at them you would think they were his doubles, but for one small fact. When their hair caught the light it shone a pure, fiery red.

* * *

The halls of Mandos were not unpleasant. But I hated every moment I was forced to spend there. I saw other spirits wandering in, much as I had done, only to be greeted and sent on to some place ahead by the unseen keeper of this place. I refused to go. Many times had the soft voice, its owner who had as yet remained unseen to me, spoken, telling me that it was my time to move on, to go into the next life where I would be at peace. I writhed inside the walls of my vast and beautiful prison, telling that soft voice that it was most definitely not my time! I shouted to the walls and any passing spirits who would listen of all I had left behind all I had to return to! More often than not I did not get a reply, but I carried on trying anyway. There was too much that I had left behind, that I wanted to see again. "I want to see my children!" I cried out, for what seemed like the hundredth time in as many days. "Why won't you let me return to them?" I pounded against the invisible barrier that held me trapped and fell against it in desperation, sobbing for breath, yet each breath feeling like it was only killing me further. "Why can't I go back to Legolas?" I whispered, my voice cracking under the strain. I leant my head against the bars of what I deemed to be this cell, and began to sob in earnest. Far in the distance I heard that elusive voice call out to me. "The halls of Mandos have always been peaceful." It said, its tone lilting and mesmerising. "Not so since you arrived. You are greatly troubled for one so young." Had it not been a voice of great ethereal beauty, I would have thought its tone to be sarcastic. As it was I replied honestly, "I want to return to my husband. I love him so, and I miss him terribly." My voice was soft and, I hoped, respectful, yet tinged with all the sadness that had weighed heavily on me since my arrival. "You are not the first to pass through these halls who has left a loved one behind." The voice reminded me softly, although there was a hint of steel behind the mild words. I hastened to explain fully the severity of my situation, "No, of that I am aware, but my husband was Legolas of the Woodland Realm. Do you know of him?" I asked, nervousness clouding my need for urgency. "Yes, I know him well," the voice replied and I could detect just the faintest hint of annoyance, it was enough to spur me into action, I was about to blurt out my entire story, when a horrifying thought crossed my mind. "You say you know him well," I questioned cautiously. The voice did not respond, but I heard what might have been a slight annoyed humph, so I got to my point with haste, "Well, he's not…due…anytime soon, is he?" There was an unmistakable sigh from the owner of the melodious voice, "No, he is not. Now will you please get on with it!" I cringed for a moment and then launched into my story full throttle, "I was captured by a mad-elf, and she tortured me because I was the Princess, but upon my rescue I went into labour early. The first baby was fine and I named him Keldarion, but then there was a second, and… well, I didn't survive, as you can probably see, because I ended up here." I finished and drew in a deep breath, pushing away the nagging the reminder that I didn't actually need to breathe, on account of the fact of being dead and all. Both the voice and I were silent for a while. After what seemed like an eternity of waiting the voice spoke to me once more, "I say again, you are not the first to pass through these halls with such a past." All hope I had harboured within me, despite how frail it might have seemed, even then, was crushed. I sagged against the barrier, all my fight gone out of me with this terrible revelation. I was never going to get out. The voice piped up again, breaking into my hopeless thoughts, "However," this one word changed everything and I hastened to scramble to my knees. "You are by far the most annoying, so I will permit you to return, if only in the hopes to save myself from obtaining a violent headache." If the voice had shown a corporeal form I would have flung my arms about its neck in gratitude, as it was I was forced to shout my exuberant thanks aloud, for the hearing of the whole hall, "Thank you! Oh, thank you!" I cried at the top of my lungs, just before a strange pulling sensation tugged at me again. Even to this day I swear that I heard that far off voice mutter, "So much for escaping from that headache," but at the time I was to overjoyed at the prospect of returning home to pay any real heed to it at all.

The woods were cold and dank. A strange smell hung on the air that was musty and yet very much alive all at the same time. It was too dark to see exactly where I lay, but from what I could feel I must have landed on a pile of very cold, very pointy twigs. I stifled a moan and tried to roll onto my side. Big mistake. I rolled right off the pile of twigs to land with a muffled thump and a very muffled curse on the unforgiving ground below. The impact winded me so that I could not even cry out to express the sudden pain that reverberated through me at this cruel landing. I heard far off voices and struggled to regain full awareness of my surroundings as the voices drew nearer, "Ai! Someone has ruined our firewood stack!" cried a voice in dismay, "And it took us so long to make too!" a voice chimed in sorrowfully. I craned my neck to try and see the owners of the voices from behind the firewood, I had heard too many ownerless voices lately and it was beginning to grate on my nerves. I should not have even attempted the movement, the sudden stab of pain caused me to cry out and it was such that I almost passed out again. Moments later the immediate pain had passed and I realised that I no longer had to strain to see the owners of the voices, they were right next to me! It took my foggy brain a few more seconds than I would have liked to realise that the two figures were Elvish and the relief that flowed through me was almost a physical feeling. Finally, I was saved! The two figures came closer, and I recognised the characteristic blonde hair of Mirkwood, this was better than I could have hoped! I summoned the last of my strength to call out to them as they approached me slowly and cautiously. Like I could have done them any harm, at that present moment it was enough of a struggle just to remain conscious. "Where…" I managed to choke out as my battered lips refused to oblige me any further. "You are on the eaves of Mirkwood," one of the voices told me slowly and I let out a ragged breath in total relief. I let go my tenuous hold on consciousness and I did not even realise when I was slung over the shoulder of one of the elves and borne away towards the Palace of Mirkwood and the home of Prince Legolas and Princess Osellë.


	8. Unable to Stay, Unwilling to Leave

**Part Eight **

**Unable to Stay, Unwilling to Leave**

_There is no rose without a thorn_

_There is no rain without a storm_

_There is no laughter without tears_

_In a world gone crazy_

_Torn between the roads _

_That we must chose_

_Win or lose_

_If every soul should lose its way_

_If every face should lose its name_

_Tell me who's gonna stop the rain?_

_**Anastacia – Who's Gonna Stop the Rain**_

I woke slowly. My mind seemed fogged and indistinct somehow. I knew it was important that I had returned to Mirkwood, but I no longer really knew why. This frustrated me beyond all reason. I gave an angry humph and swung my legs out of the bed, shivering slightly as the cool morning air hit me like an arctic wind. This feeling of helplessness and weakness was foreign and it was beginning to grind severely on my frazzled nerves. The carpet was soft and springy beneath my feet, and I vaguely remembered it, this room and even the way that there was an obvious ring left in the carpet, as if a heavy pot had stood there at one time. That especially seemed familiar. I frowned in confusion, sometimes it seemed that memories were lurking just on the edge of recognition, about to make themselves known to me and then, just before they came into focus, they slipped away. The not knowing was maddening. The last thing I remembered was… waking on that uncomfortable log pile in the forest. For some reason it had been very important for me to be among elves and in Mirkwood. Then a thought struck me. Of course, I was an elf and Mirkwood was my home! I must just be returning from some brave crusade, upon which I underwent horrors so terrible, they caused me to forget to prevent me going insane… Okay, maybe not, but it was nice to imagine myself as a heroine, especially as I wasn't sure just who I really was anymore. Another thought sledge-hammered it's way into my still fuzzy brain; what on Middle Earth did I look like? I stood rather shakily to my feet and proceeded in the direction of what I took to be the mirror. When I gained it's side, I took a deep breath preparing myself for what I might be about to see, then I turned sharply, spinning so that my face hovered mere inches from the reflective pane. I sighed in disappointment, tilting my chin upward slightly as I beheld the depressingly un-pointed ears that graced either side of my face. So I wasn't an elf then. The mystery deepens. If I wasn't an elf what business had I with the elves of Mirkwood? Oh, the confusion! I inwardly berated myself for forgetting, what kind of person was I that I should forget my past at the drop of a hat? Or at the drop off a pile of twigs for that matter. Unless, perhaps, it was a past I did not want to remember… So lost was I in my musing about my previous exploits that I didn't hear the figure behind me until they locked their hands tightly about my shoulders and spun me, none too gently, to face them. It was with some displeasure that I eyed the blonde elf that had me in a death-grip about the shoulders. Did I know this boy? Perhaps he was a friend of mine, if so, how was I supposed to respond to this rough treatment? After a moment of deliberation, I decided to respond in kind. Throwing myself forwards, I jerked free of his grip and pivoted on my left heel, driving hard with my right, impaling the boy's foot to the floor under my own. He dropped down with a howl of pain and I followed moments later, winding up straddling him. "Do I know you?" I questioned cautiously, earning me a glare from the prostrate being I was currently sitting on. "I am Keldarion, Prince of Mirkwood, and I was about to ask you the same question," He growled, his manner distinctly unfriendly. I gave a wan smile, my previous hostility fading into dire embarrassment. It was with a short shock I realised grimly that this was a familiar feeling. Apparently even losing my memory couldn't change some things. Perhaps I was forever doomed. I got up slowly, still grinning in what I hoped looked like a sincere apology. The Prince I had attacked straightened somewhat tartly from the floor and graced me with what I took to be his blackest look. I cringed in response, if looks could kill I'd be deader than a warg in a field full of angry, constipated elves with a grudge against all things with four paws. I began to feel distinctly uncomfortable and was in the process of trying, as discreetly as I was able, to shuffle slowly away from the glaring elf, without making it obvious that I was doing so. I was making some headway, when another elf burst into the room. For a brief moment I wondered if, as well as my memory, I had somehow misplaced my sanity. Either that or I was seeing double. My explanation was provided moments later, but my relief at not losing my sanity was short lived, as it now appeared I was up against two Elven opponents instead of one. "Brother!" cried the second elf flinging himself into the room and stopping to grasp my blonde assailant by the shoulders. "I heard you cry out! Are you well?" The first elf, Keldarion, shook his head slightly, in an almost amused manner and spoke soothingly to who I took to be his twin, "Nay, Estel. I am well. She merely took me by surprise is all." Keldarion and Estel both turned to glare at me then. I shrugged my shoulders in feigned innocence. "I have lost my memory, or so it would seem." I told them, by way of explanation for my actions. Both looked at me doubtfully. "You seemed well enough in possession of them yesterday," the one called Estel said, his tone decidedly doubtful. "When you ruined our woodpile," Keldarion added in a disgruntled whisper. This earned him a glare from both Estel and I. "What!" he questioned, his face the epitome of innocence. He must get that from his father. The thought crossed my mind without me even really knowing where it came from. What did this mean? Had I knowledge of the parents of these Elven children, were they perhaps my friends? Hope flooded me and I took a sudden step forward, hoping perhaps that these Elven Princes might recognise me, "Do you know me?" I questioned hopefully. "Have you perhaps seen me with your parents?" The twins looked at me doubtfully and my heart sank. "I have never seen you before in my life," The one called Keldarion said, his voice still hostile. "And I have but one parent. My mother is dead, my brother and I were raised by our father's second wife, Osellë." For some reason this new information sent a shiver down my spine and an inexplicable knot formed in my stomach. I was hopelessly confused. These reactions seemed beyond my control and yet they felt perfectly natural, as if they were how the true me felt, before I became memory challenged. I stared into nothing for a while, contemplating the utter misery that seemed to have consumed me since Keldarion's last statement. My vision was turned inward so I did not see the approaching elf, until he tapped me on the arm, physically bringing me out of my daze. I jumped to face him and turned an unintentionally wide-eyed gaze on the startled Elven twin. As my scattered wits returned to me I recognised him as Estel, and with a further shock I realised that he was looking on me with an expression very much akin to compassion. Perhaps my luck was finally changing. Gently he reached forward with his other arm and grabbed me, carefully this time, by the shoulders. "My brother and I have decided to make enquiries about you. You are to stay in this palace as our guest, until we know just who you are. Does this suit you?" I had a distinct feeling that the last question was a formality only and I would be staying in this palace whether it suited me or not, but I had no reason to be impolite to my hosts. "Thank you, Prince Estel. It would suit me well." He gave a formal little bow then and he and his brother turned to leave, promising to return and give me a guided tour later to see if anything jogged my memory. Just as they were crossing the threshold Keldarion turned and spoke suddenly, as if a thought had just occurred to him, "You expressed an interest in our father?" he questioned, at my slight nod he continued. "It would please you to know then, that he is due back in Mirkwood, just a week from now, with our sister. She is the daughter of Osellë, so in truth only our half-sister. We will make all the necessary introductions then." With a final bow they were gone and I was left alone to contemplate my whirling thoughts and try to quell the unease that was growing in my mind.

* * *

The ride from Ithlien was long. Legolas paused a moment, spinning lightly in his saddle to locate the whereabouts of Osellë and his daughter. What on Middle-Earth was keeping them? A soft clatter of hooves came to his ears and moments later the two of them rounded the bend in the track and cantered lazily up to meet him. "Legolas, why have you stopped? You seemed in such a hurry earlier." Osellë said, her melodious voice soft and genuine, but Legolas could not help feeling a certain amount of frustration. "Will the two of you please show some haste?" he said, his words coming out more sharply than he had intended. Sighing deeply he tried again, "Something in Mirkwood calls me. I am anxious to return." Osellë's expression turned sombre and she spurred her horse into a gallop, the Elven maid at her side following suit. Finally! With a short sigh of relief Legolas kicked his horse into an all-out run and hastened to Mirkwood, to find out what called him home.

* * *

Keldarion and Estel cornered me in the garden. I had taken to hiding in a certain corner when I needed some solitude and it had not taken them long to discover my hiding place. Now there was no way I was ever going to get any peace! I stifled a smile as the twins approached, indulging in one of their ever-present rows. I had grown to like them a lot this past week, despite our initial hostilities. The brothers had proven to be deep and caring souls, with a kinship that far surpassed any I had ever seen before. They were inseparable and I was fast becoming a third party to all their little pranks. I had discovered within myself a latent desire to cause mischief that I suspected had been well used in the past. I had been hiding out in the palace for the past week, with the help and guidance of Keldarion and Estel, due to my fears that I might be recognised for all the wrong reasons. Enquiries about me had been made, discreetly, but so far none of us had been able to learn anything. Endless hours of boredom were interspersed with visits from the twins, who I think, despite all their intentions to the contrary were beginning to look on me a friend. Both were very handsome, and this did not pass my attention, but for some reason I was not at all attracted to them. It was very strange and I often contemplated that in some of the more boring moments. It was ever a puzzle to me. The twins finally reached me, and I stood to greet them, issuing first the mandatory mock bow that had long ago passed from necessity, but that I now used to torment them. Keldarion raised a hand to cuff me about the head and Estel prepared to tackle me to the ground, as was the norm with our play fights, but the clatter of hooves interrupted our game. I turned my head as three horses raced into the courtyard, their hooves striking the cobbles so hard I saw sparks fly. I watched from a distance as a male elf dismounted and my vision funnelled in on him. I know him! In that instant memory slammed into me, physically knocking me backward with its force. I stumbled and landed on my knees, the breath knocked out of me as memories crushed into my mind, crowding all other thoughts or feeling out of the way as they surged to fill the blanks in my brain. It was a very painful feeling even though I felt most of the pain was in my mind and not physical harm. The brothers took my fall to the floor to be a panicked attempt to hide and hastened to reassure me, "Fear not! That is but our father! We will go and get him, and he will know what to do. It will be well," With those hurried words the twins raced off to greet their family, leaving me with a considerate pat on the back. I barely heard their words. That was my husband, that was Legolas. Their father? Then those must be… my sons. I had been with my sons for a week and not recognised them, what kind of mother did that make me? My heart was pounding ridiculously hard against my ribcage. I was back, I was truly back! I had escaped the halls of Mandos! Did I not warn them I was hard to get rid of? I would see my children, and Legolas… speaking of whom… I raced to my feet, Legolas! I had to tell him I was back, what a reunion we would have! My selective memory neglected to remind me that Legolas was married to Osellë now, with a daughter of their own. I was too lost in the moment to listen to reason, or even the warning my senses were screaming at me. I raced on, blind to the turmoil I was about to cause.

* * *

Legolas raced into the courtyard. What was it that called him so? Was something amiss in Mirkwood? He let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding as his two sons appeared from the garden, for a brief time he had feared that the sense of foreboding was something to do with them. It would kill him to lose them, for with them would die his last link with Vénea as well as the loss of two so dear to his heart. He grasped them quickly in a tight embrace, relief giving him sudden strength and he was loathe to let them go. When he did so he looked around expectantly. "What is amiss?" he questioned the two of them, hoping they would know what had called him. They exchanged bewildered looks and Legolas' suspicion rose. Perhaps this was more serious than he had first surmised. Keldarion spoke up first, "Nothing is amiss, Adar, but we do have something we need…" Legolas cut him of swiftly, "Something is different here." He told them his eyes narrowing. "Something has called me." His son's expressions changed from confused to worried but Legolas was already halfway up the steps into the palace, so he did not see the guilty look that passed between them. Nor did he see as a human woman tore out from the garden and raced to embrace them both. They seemed surprised, and did not pull back, but patted her gingerly on the arm as if they were unsure of the cause of this sudden behaviour. She did not release her grip, but shouted joyfully into their tunics, "I am your mother! I am Vénea!" with a final joyful cry she left them (the two quickly sat down on the floor, so stunned were they by her sudden announcement,) and turned to Osellë. "Osellë, I am back!" she sang out, her voice loud and strong. She did not see the icy fire burning in the eyes of her friend, nor the stiffness in her movements as she threw her arms about her. She did not remain there long and within seconds she too was tearing into the house, after her errant husband. She left behind three very confused elves, sitting in solitude on the cold courtyard cobbles, each lost in their own thoughts.

* * *

I flew into the house. What a wonderful time was this! I had returned and all was well, now all I had to do was find that tricky husband of mine… I raced up the flight of stairs in front of me, using every ounce of energy on movement, so I had none spare to call out. I saw a flash of blonde up ahead and my pace quickened. I rounded a bend and there he was. My breath caught in my throat at the sight, he was more beautiful than even my memory had told me, his sunlit locks caught on a gentle breeze, his blue eyes intense. I stumbled slightly, hitting a wall and grabbing on for balance. Even this little noise caught his attention and he whirled to face me and froze. For a second it felt to me as if all time stood still. Nothing and no one moved. Then the silence was broken as a horse neighed in the courtyard below and shied slightly, it hooves clashing loudly against the cobbles. This jolted us out of the moment and Legolas took a step back. Unfortunately there was nothing for him to step back onto. The carpet fell away beneath his feet and he tumbled headfirst down the short flight of stairs. Short though it was it was long enough for him to hit the floor hard at least three times and I flew down after him, careful to remain safely on my feet and so avoid landing on top of him and injuring him further. He landed unceremoniously at the bottom and there was a muffled whoosh as all the air was driven from his lungs. I jumped down to land beside him seconds later, and leant over his prostrate form. At the sight of me, leaning over him from above, sunlight glinting and shining in all the red highlights of my hair, his eyes snapped shut. Filled with terror that he had taken more hurt than I could see, I bent low and frantically whispered to him, "Legolas! What ails you?" His next words were so low that I had to lean in close to catch them and even then I wasn't sure if I had heard him correctly, "I have passed to the halls of Mandos." I leant closer. "What?" "My spirit has moved on into the waiting halls of Valinor." I shook my head vehemently, momentarily forgetting that his eyes were closed and he couldn't see me, "No. Legolas, no! You still live." He gave his own head a small shake, but did not open his eyes. "I have passed into the next world. I am at peace, I have joined you at last." His words were soft and almost wistful, but they annoyed me anyway, had he not heard a word I just said? I took him by the shoulders, "Legolas, open your eyes. You and I, we both live!" He rested his hands on top of mine and ignored my comment. "You are dead and I have joined you. I did not think a flight of stairs would succeed where the Dark Lord Sauron himself has failed, but I am glad it was so. I have missed you." I was very annoyed by now, touched as I was by his sentiment, I would have been far happier had he actually heeded my words. Talking to him obviously was not working, so I changed tactics, instead slamming my heel down on top of his foot. His eyes flew open and locked onto mine with a glare that was all too familiar as he cradled his injured foot in his hand. "It would seem I am not dead. Have the Valar sent you down to torment me some more? A fallen angel as it were?" His words were as he would have said them before my… demise… but I could see the tears in his eyes and hear the heartbreak in the words. It had been too long. I pulled him forward into my embrace and for a second he resisted and then he collapsed against me, his arms finding mine and locking on tightly, as if he would never let go. I felt his sobs shaking his chest as he held them at bay, and the first spike of worry seared into my brain. He had never ceased to be open with me before… I pulled back to stare into his pain-filled face, "What is it meleth-nin?" The term of endearment crossed my lips without thinking and he winced at it. Then it came back to me… Legolas and Osellë… Stung, I flew to my feet, fury igniting in my eyes. "You married her, didn't you?" I raised a hand to run it through my tangled locks as a memory I didn't want to recall returned to haunt me, "What, I'm out of the picture so you find a replacement?" I yelled, my fury rising up to drown my breath-taking misery. I knew dimly that my words were unfair, but this betrayal, as I saw, it hurt incredibly badly. My husband and my best friend? It was a scene straight from my worst nightmare, only this was real, and there would be no waking up. Legolas flew to his feet, "It was never like that!" he yelled back at me, tears flowing down his fair face, "You died in my arms! Do you know how that feels? As far as I knew you were never coming back! What of the children? Keldarion and Estel? How would you have had me raise them, without the influence of a mother figure? You left me here with two children and I almost died from heartbreak. Now, after all this time, you ask me if I just 'replaced' you? When I still…" His last sentence was yelled at the top of his lungs, but he cut it off sharply, closing his eyes as he left the sentence hanging. I stood there too shocked to move. When he still what? He had choked off the sentence part way through and the look on his face made me want to not push him any further. I could see that my 'replacement' comment had cut him deeply. But, after all this time? Just how long had I been gone? My boys looked about nineteen to me, but then that was by human years; my face paled. By Elven years they would be two hundred by now. I was rooted to the spot, two hundred years was an unbelievably long time to wait. Had it truly been that long? The first tear was so hard to get out I would have thought there would be a pause before the next, but they just tumbled out, getting ever faster and faster. A raging torrent was pouring down my face and I had a wild wish that I would drown in this flood, and so find release from all the problems me merely being alive had brought. Damn all this too hell, what was I even doing here anyway? Turning on my heel I ignored the frantic shout from behind me as I fled from that room, following my feet, my vision so blurred with tears that I did not even realise when I left the house and entered the cool silence of the garden.

I had hidden in my usual place. The soft solitude of the garden gave me some solace and I tried not to make any noise and so avoid detection by the elves I could hear at the far end of the garden searching for me. Neither Legolas nor Osellë was among them. I supposed that they were busy in their chamber, Legolas having profusely apologised, insisting that he had no idea why he said what he did, and they were busy doing… married couple stuff. An area that had previously been my and Legolas' forte. The thought of the two of them together made me feel almost physically sick. I attempted to banish all such thoughts from my mind and curled up tighter into myself. A rustle in the bushes to my left had me spinning in a second and I got a mouthful of blonde hair as I span to face my former husband. Legolas looked at me from out of the bushes. One single twig was stuck in his hair. His eyes seemed red-rimmed as if he had been crying and his breathing was slightly unsteady. For a second we simply stared at each other. Then, with what sounded like a strangled cry he threw himself back into the bushes he appeared from and rapidly began to disappear from view. I gave chase. Racing through the branches after him, sticks and branches snagged in my hair and clothes, pulling me back and slowing me down. He was getting further and further ahead of me. I cried out in frustration, what was it that gave speed to him, but seemed only to be hindering me further? Perhaps it was that annoying fact that he was an elf and I was not, frustration gave me sudden speed and in one quick burst I caught up to him and grasped his sleeve, wringing the fabric tightly in my fist. I dug my heels into the ground and held still, forcing him to give up his flight and he was eventually forced to face me. Fresh tears flowed down his face and his eyes shone with them. I did not move, I could not. The look in his eyes held me helplessly rooted to the spot. Valar, how I loved this elf! He held still, only a slight trembling of his limbs giving away his emotional turmoil. Slowly I dropped my hand from his tunic and stared down at the leaf-littered floor. Pure unfiltered moonlight hazed down between the gaps in the branches, giving the wood an almost unearthly feel. The soft silver shone in his hair, making it seem more golden than ever. I almost wept at his beauty, beauty that was beyond my reach forever. Without even realising I was doing it I reached out a hand to touch his cheek. It felt slick, cold and damp with tears under my fingers, and with a trembling hand I wiped them away. His own hand flashed up, catching mine within his grip, I knew his original intention had been to push my hand away, but when we touched flesh to flesh something like a bolt of electricity ran up my arm. I guessed he must have felt something similar, as he just held onto my hand and grew completely still, half his face in shadow, half illuminated by the moonlight. I still dared not move, I don't even remember breathing, but I guess I must have at some point. I was too lost in this moment, wishing it could last forever, wishing Osellë had never existed. Reality seemed so far away and a thousand years distant. I wished with all my heart that it could stay that way, alone in a glade with the elf I loved for all eternity. But life has a funny habit of playing tricks on you that way. It was in that moment that Legolas spoke, "I cannot stay." My world, even though I always knew it could only be temporary, smashed into nothingness. My voice, when I spoke in return was choked, strangled, "I know. But I had hoped…" My words trailed off into silence. There was nothing more for either of us to say. But Legolas looked as if he wanted to. His carefully contained composure broke and his true emotions shone naked on his face. Pain, longing, desperation and …love. Suddenly I knew what he wanted to say, the three words that were forming on his tongue as he opened his mouth to speak. The world seemed to slow down, I saw the leaves drift to the floor around us so slowly, but my thoughts raced. I couldn't let him speak this, if he did, it would break Osellë, my best friend. She had loved him for so long, and he must love her or he would never have married her. These thoughts each burned a hole in my heart, holes that ached and felt aflame even as they appeared, but I continued in my trail of thought. Everything Legolas had, everything that had happened after my death would be ripped away with the words he was about to utter, but I… I would be happy. Deliriously so, I would have my husband and my children, life would be better than I had ever dreamed, could I really let that go? Some internal voice answered for me, _'If you love something, let it go…'_ I smiled, but my smile was one of heartbreak. That was my decision then. "I…" I cut Legolas off, raising my head to face him, still smiling. _'I'm going to let you go,'_ I whispered to him, in my mind, wondering if somehow he would hear me and understand. "Don't." I whispered out loud. Each word ripped itself from my lips, each killing something inside me a little more. Maybe it was hope. "Go to Osellë. It is late. She will be missing you." Legolas was silent. He looked at me and I wondered if his heart felt anything like mine did. Ripped in two. I took a step, but not forwards, backwards, away from Legolas. "You cannot stay," I whispered, the words dragged from my mouth, something inside me dying even more. He did not say a word, he just and turned and left the clearing. I watched him leave, something inside me leaving with him. "I will love you forever," I whispered brokenly to the forest, speaking the words I should have said moments ago, to the elf who was now beyond hearing. "I love you." In that second the very last of whatever it was inside me withered and died completely. I fell to the floor like a puppet with all it's strings cut. In that second I knew what I had lost. All my hope was dead.

* * *

Legolas' heart felt choked. His whole being felt twisted as if he was being pulled slowly in two, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. It was all so confusing! He did love Osellë, it was true, but it was different to the way he felt about Vénea. Which one was true love, and which was false? Ai, why did the Valar torture him so? But even worse than the indecision was the knowledge that, no matter what he felt for Venea, they could never be together as they had been before. Too much had passed, too much had changed. Bound by duty, honour and respect Legolas was held captive inside his own heart. And the realisation was killing him.

* * *

I returned to the palace in a daze. Not really caring whether I lived or died had made me a little lax in watching where I was going on my way back so I was now bleeding from various cuts and scrapes on my arms and face. I looked at the blood with distaste. What did the blood matter, it was too little to kill me and that was all I was really interested in at the moment. What did anything else really matter anyway, I had nothing left to live for. I might as well be dead for all I mattered to anyone. All my human friends were long dead and the elves were making it painfully apparent that I would be better off dead in their eyes also. I would leave now and spare them the bother. Perhaps I would die on my journey to nowhere. The thought of death didn't bother me and I began to look on it as a relief, a way out, an escape. But taking my own life, that was beyond me. I probably would not have the courage anyway I thought bitterly as I trudged into my chamber. It was the same chamber I had once shared with Legolas when we were married. After my death it had fallen into disuse as Legolas and Osellë moved into a different chamber. It would fall into disuse once more when I left, I thought distantly, my mind too numbed by shock and pain to follow a coherent route of thoughts. I was just wondering whether or not to bother taking any food with me when I left when a shape flew into my chamber. At first I did not even care enough to turn to face this intruder, so uncaring was I about my life or death. However, my buried survival instincts kicked in when I felt the cold bite of steel against my neck and I stiffened my back, the will to fight for life returning minutely. Maybe I was not ready to die again just yet. I would have turned then to face my attacker, but the blade against my throat hindered that plan somewhat, unless I wanted to slit my jugular in the process. Contrary with my mindset of just moments before, that thought no longer sat very well with me, so it was with some trepidation that I endeavoured instead to speak, "Who are you and what is your quarrel with me?" I questioned, the blade pressing dangerously near my throat with each breath I drew. "What is my name?" came the voice, and with that voice my spirits fell. It was a voice I recognised only too well. I suppose I should not have been surprised, but I was. Surprised and infinitely disappointed, "Oh, Osellë," I whispered. The blade dug harder against my throat, "Oh, Osellë? What right have you to 'oh Osellë' me? At least you know my name, friend." Her voice was hard with malice, but I recognised the heartbreak behind it. It did not take a genius to guess the reasons for her visit. "Legolas did not choose me, Osellë," I whispered around the metal edging my throat, hoping to mollify the enraged elf, "He picked you in the end." I tried to tell myself that I was not lying to my friend. _I'm just… omitting certain truths…_ But even I couldn't believe it. If I couldn't convince myself, I don't know how I ever expected to fool Osellë. She didn't even pause. "Liar!" she spat at me. "I saw you in the woods with him, poisoning his mind against me! Did you think I wouldn't see you, sorcerer? You bewitched him before and your spells will lure him away from me again! I won't lose him!" She held the blade so hard I felt a hot trickle of blood run down my neck to stain my tunic crimson. "You haven't," I tried to tell her the truth this time. It was true, Legolas was to remain with Osellë, though it tore my heart to let him go, I loved him so I must. Love is more of a curse than any spell ever invented, and I dare any wizard to tell me otherwise. My heart was still pounding, but I pushed it from my mind as I concentrated on soothing Osellë, and hopefully distracting her from trying to kill me. "Please, we were friends once… He is your husband now," I had intended to keep my words distant and aloof, but even as I spoke the last sentence my voice wavered and cracked. It was no use; the grief was still too near. A single tear dripped down my cheek and I dared not reach up to wipe it away, lest it be the last move I ever made, so I was forced to wait as I felt it drip, agonisingly slowly, down my cheek and onto the blade that was already stained with my blood. I made no noise, but my lower lip trembled and I could feel a minute shaking in all of my limbs as all the grief I had stored up inside of myself and the fear sparked by my present predicament, became too much for me to hide. I heard a sharp intake of breath from Osellë as my tear dripped from the knife and onto her hand. The pressure on my throat lessened somewhat, and I was pleased to find that breathing began to come slightly easier. Osellë took a step away from me, the knife drifting down to press into my midriff. This would have been a great improvement, had my bladder not be full to bursting. This new pressure made controlling my bodily functions so much harder. "What has happened that I should come to this?" I heard the words and my focus returned outwards, to Osellë, "Holding a knife to the throat of my best friend, already stained with her blood and tears? What have I done?" I did not reply. I felt even that slight effort might cause my control to slip and I needed all of it right now, to shield the pain, and my… bladder predicament. Neither of us really noticed when the door flew open for a second time and a third figure came into the room. I soon took notice though, when I caught a flash of golden hair, and my eyes locked onto the fiery blue ones of Legolas. His face was the picture of misery. His eyes were still wet and his clothes were torn and stained with mud. His hair was bedraggled, which said just about everything. Even without all the other signs that alone would have been enough to convince me that there was something seriously wrong. His gaze flicked between Osellë and I, almost as if he was unsure what he was really seeing. Then without a word he approached the two of us, snatching the knife and finally freeing my poor bladder. It was nearly fatal. As he took the knife Osellë simply let it go, almost as if she had totally given up, and he was unprepared for this sudden release of tension. He jerked the handle with more force than was necessary and it span suddenly in a lethal arc aimed for his own throat. I leapt forwards, but Osellë was faster, she span suddenly, knocking the blade off-course with her own forearm, and with the full weight of her body slamming into Legolas and driving him to the floor, well out of range of the blade. It clattered, with a metallic twang, to the floor some feet away. I stood still, useless now, where I had leapt to, some feet away from the wall I had been pressed against. It was a fair leap, but it had gone unnoticed in the shadow of Osellë's great act. I was of no use here. I turned to leave these lovers to what I was sure would be a huge embrace, with Legolas finally realising what he had been about to give up. _And it is for the best_; I tried to make myself believe that, but I couldn't. All I had left now was a burning ache where my heart should be. It hurt more than I would have thought possible. I turned to leave behind this life, this love, the ruins of what I had thought would be a fire to burn forever, now a pile of ash and smoke. There was nothing left for me here. A hand on my arm stopped me before I had even taken a step towards the door. I did not turn. If it was Osellë with that knife I could only hope she would not hesitate to strike, and I had little doubt of her aim. A soft voice spoke and it was not the voice of Osellë. "I will not let you walk out of my life for a second time." He said, and my battered heart swelled; it was Legolas! Osellë also got to her feet, but instead of moving to strike or attack she leant wearily against he wall and let her head hang low. Did she give her permission then? Could it be that she would let me have her husband? There was not time to answer my unspoken question as Legolas was speaking again, me hanging off his every word, "Do you remember our marriage vows?" I nodded profusely, how could I forget? That had been the best day of my life! I did not yet trust myself to speak, lest this be a dream and I awake from it. At my head motion Legolas continued softly, "Then you remember we said, 'as long as these promises hold true.' And now I believe it is time to tell you," My heart was pounding so furiously now I wondered why I was not back in the halls of Mandos, "I love…" his words were cut off as he slumped senseless to the ground, only my reflex of catching him, and stopping him hitting the ground at full speed. I was very, very surprised, that was the last thing I had expected. And the most infuriating! The Valar seemed to have the worst sense of timing I had ever heard of! _Will I never hear the end of that sentence?_ Osellë collapsed to the ground moments later and I, having my arms full of Legolas, was powerless to catch her. The dull thwack as she collided solidly with the earth actually made me wince. For the first time I noticed a strange, vaguely purple mist filling the room and swirling in eddies past my feet and around the two unconscious elves. I caught a whiff of it as it floated past and wrinkled my nose in disgust, it smelt bitter, like rotten vegetables, or bread left out in the sun. A figure appeared in the swirling mist and I squinted to make it out. The silhouette seemed human, but I felt a chill of malice as it limped closer, still partially obscured from my view. "Vénea?" a voice questioned, it's tone incredulous, but I knew its owner only too well. But, it was impossible, wasn't it? The voice drew nearer and I held back a scream as I realised that it was the man I had feared. But how was he still alive, after all this time? He hoisted Legolas out of my grip even though I strongly resisted and put a knife to his bare throat. "Resist any more and elf-boy here gets it, see?" he whispered harshly and I gave a stiff nod. He let out a mirthless laugh. "Never thought to see you again, lass, and least of all here!" he cried evilly as he dragged the unresponsive Legolas and me from the room. Great, I thought as I stumbled down that corridor, wincing every time he let Legolas' head bash against one of the walls, each time hating him more and more. Now my bladder seemed to be the very least of my problems. 


	9. Dungeons and Dark Thoughts

**Part Nine**

**Dungeons and Dark Thoughts**

_I walk to the edge again, searching for the truth_

_Taken by the memories of all that I've been through_

_If I could hear your voice, I know that I would be okay_

_I know that I've been wrong but I'm begging you to stay, _

_Won't you stay...  
_

_Will you be here? Or will I be alone._

_Will I be scared? You'll teach me how to be strong _

_And if I fall down will you help me carry on?_

_I cannot do this alone.  
_

_**12 Stones**_

Isn't it amazing how quickly things can go very, very wrong? It is a phenomenon I would rather never have discovered though, as the aftermath of it left me now chained in dungeon, and barely able to move. Sometimes I really thought that it hadn't been worth resurrecting myself, it would have been so much easier to just stay dead. A muffled thump from across the room snapped me out of my reverie in an instant and I brought my head up sharply, squinting into the gloom. He was back. The torturer, the man who had kept me locked down here along with Legolas and Osellë. I wriggled my shoulders apprehensively against the wall, sending the chains into a roar of rattling, clanging and bashing against the unyielding stone. When the noise died down I spoke up, "Verceron. I told you never to come near me again." I twisted my upper lip into sneer even though it was pointless. There was no light down here, so I was for all intents and purposes invisible. This would have been a good thing if I hadn't already been chained to a wall. His face was still masked by the darkness all around, but I could almost feel his smirk radiating onto my skin, "Venea," he greeted, his voice husky and grating, "I knew you never really meant it." I hissed at him in Elvish then, venting my fear, loathing, anger and hate in a steaming tirade. The only problem with Elvish is that it really is too beautiful a language to curse in, whatever you say it always sounds nice. I was vaguely pondering this dilemma as I ranted and raved, the curses flowing easily from my tongue, when I noticed that Verceron was wincing, his eyes screwed up in pain. I paused momentarily and cocked my head at him slightly in awe. Could my words actually be hurting him? I grinned, what luck that the way to hurt this foul creature was words, that fortunately required nothing but usage of the mouth, and my tightly bound hands were unnecessary. I opened my mouth, speaking common this time, so that he could understand me, "So weak all of a sudden, Verceron? What happened to sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me?" I asked audaciously, quoting the rhyme we had sung together in childhood. He gave a low growl and flung himself forwards, catching my jaw in a bone-crunching grip with his mud-caked hands, "Don't be giving me cause to hurt you now, Vénea," he said, his tone light, but his words dripping with threat. "I've known you a long time and it would be a shame to see anything happen to you now," He put a threatening emphasis on the word 'shame' and my fear rose a notch. I swallowed back the choking grip anxiety had on my voice and spoke out around the filthy hand on my jaw, "Too long you have known me now. I thought I had seen the last of you that night, long ago. But if you have come back for a second attempt…" The hand on my jaw released it's stranglehold and Verceron took a wary step backwards, forgetting momentarily, I think, that I was still chained to the wall. Apparently he hadn't forgotten our last meeting after all… "I see you still have the limp," I commented, making no attempt to keep the pride out of my voice. A stray shaft of moonlight had found it's way through the dungeon grille and by its luminescence I could see the grimace that flittered briefly across his features. I masked my smile of triumph. "How could I forget?" he yowled, his voice rising at least an octave in fury. "You marked me an abuser! My reputation was ruined! When the orcs came they offered me my chance of revenge," his eyes seemed unfocused, resting on neither myself nor anything within the confines of the cell we were holed up inside, but to something beyond, like a memory visible while waking. My shoulders tensed in fury, how could he speak so compassionately of the orcs, vile creatures, that had murdered my mother and so many others? I flew as far forward as the chains would allow me, straining every muscle to reach him and tear that mocking smile from his jeering face, "You know nothing!" I screamed, fury carrying my voice and echoing from every corner of the dark room, " Idiot, you deserved to be known for what you are! Rape is not something I can easily forget, it is well that you failed or I would have killed you myself, and not left you to the orcs!" His smile did not change, almost as if he was enjoying, and had been expecting, the fury I had just displayed. He moved closer and whispered softly in my ear, "I knew I would make you pay," he whispered, his breath tickling my neck and I shuddered violently in revulsion, "You and the rest of the villagers. Sinful, they called me, and wicked. They shall never speak again, I saw to that. Your mother was the worst. I told them how to kill her, to the last detail, but I said to spare you." He moved his face so that it nuzzled into my neck and I cried out and writhed in terror, desperate to get away, memories of the last time he had been this close flooding me. I squirmed as far away from him as the chains allowed, but struggle as I might, I could get no further. It was a small matter for him to move and capture me again, I suppressed the hopeless moan that rose from me, this time there would be no escape. Just when I thought the worst was about to happen he paused. Looking up at me he moved his face until he was eye-level with me, and spoke softly, almost wistfully, "I never meant to hurt you. I told the orcs not to kill you. I saved you life. I did so much for you…" he was no longer speaking to me now, but talking as if he were living a dream out loud. "The orcs took me to Mordor. I met the master there, and he said he already knew of my troubles and how you had hurt me. He said he could help, that you would love me in the end. I willingly followed him, and he kept me alive, for many, many years. Then he fell," growled Verceron, his voice suddenly menacing, "I saw that one," he pointed furiously at Legolas, "take great pleasure in his death! I wanted my revenge on him, but I never expected to find you here. I gave up long ago on my dreams of retribution against you, who hurt me the worst." He turned to face me again, his voice soft. "But I am lonely since my master fell. There is no one to talk to. If you would be my wife, I will not kill you." He finished brightly, thinking that this was an offer I could not refuse. He couldn't have been more wrong. It was an offer I could not accept, even if doing so meant my death. With a nod of my head I beckoned him closer and he came, like a puppy expectant of a treat, I lowered my voice to a sultry whisper, "Verceron," I muttered, "Yes?" his voice was half impatient, half anticipating, "Go to Hell! I should have finished you when I had a chance! You will never have me, Yrch!" I finished bawling in his ear, so that he leapt back a step. When he looked at me next, his eyes were hard; I had killed any pity he still had for me then stone dead. I raised my chin and waited for him to strike me down, I was strangely unafraid, but then perhaps dying is easier the second time round. My only regret was that I was unable to see Legolas as my last sight. As the thing I loved most he was the thing I most wanted to see, in fact the very reason I had come back. Tears that the thought of my death or rape had not summoned flowed freely now. Verceron smiled, but it was not a nice or even handsome smile; to me it seemed wholly evil. "I think it would be worse punishment for you to live," he decreed, "maybe even to watch that one," he jerked his thumb at Legolas once more, "suffer and die before you do. It is more fitting I think." With that he turned and left me there, as the walls seemed to constrict around me, hemming me in with only dark thoughts and despair for company.

* * *

_These wounds won't seem to heal _

_This pain is just too real_

_There's just too much that time cannot erase_

_**Evanescence – My Immortal**_

* * *

Midnight black. There was nothing else left in this world, only darkness. Why not just give in? Follow the darkness that beckoned into the unknown realm of Mandos and, beyond, the Undying Lands. He feared this unknown adventure far less than he feared opening his eyes. Words came to his ears, but dull and distant as if over the roar of a waterfall. Some were indistinct, some were clear, but all seemed to blur together and it was so hard to focus… With an extreme effort Legolas lifted his head slightly, sending it into a whirling vortex of agony, but he pushed past the pain in an attempt to hear the voice more clearly. It was calling out to him now, yes, he could definitely hear his name being called. Was it the summons to the Halls of Mandos, was his time to pass beyond finally come? But the more he heard of the voice, the more he thought he recognised it, but wasn't that impossible? Memory slammed into him harshly, it's blow fiercer than a tonne of Mithril. It was possible; it was Vénea who called out to him! Groggily he made a supreme effort to open his eyes, but the world seemed to crash down around him, when he opened them even a crack, so he squeezed them tightly shut and instead ventured to speak out to her, "Vénea?" His voice came out in a harsh rasp and he coughed slightly. Apparently he had been long without water. There was an answering rattle of chains from the opposite of the cavern and a voice questioned softly in the darkness, "Legolas?" he was too tired to give a verbal response, so he just nodded tiredly. There was a pause and then Vénea spoke again, her voice soft and questioning, "Legolas are you still with me? I can't see you," His head sky-rocketed upwards and he forced his eyes open, seeing only gloom, "Has he blinded you? If he has I will-" a soft chuckle cut him off. " I am not blind, but perhaps you are. If you had opened your eyes you would have realised it is near pitch-black in here and I have not the Elven eyesight." Legolas sagged slightly against his bonds. Bonds? Reaching out slightly he found that he was tightly chained to a wall, with both his wrists and ankle in manacles. Sighing, he heard a short laugh from the opposite side of the room. Before long Vénea spoke out again, "Even in a pitch black room I can see the resigned expression on your face when you realised you were chained. Not to mention that glare you're sending me now." Legolas broke off the frown in surprise, it had been a while since anyone had read him so easily, and he hadn't realised how much he had missed it. Even while chained to a wall, in what Legolas took to be the dungeons of Mirkwood, in near total darkness, doubtlessly captive to some maniac, Vénea could make him laugh. Valar, he had missed her! He was just about to open his mouth and tell her everything, when he heard the distinctive screech of a wooden door scraping against stone. Someone was coming. Legolas froze listening.

* * *

It was such a relief to me that Legolas was finally awake. I had spent near two days alone in this cursed darkness, much longer and I think I would have begun to go stark raving mad. We had been having a surprisingly normal conversation, considering the circumstances, when he broke off suddenly. I took it to be that he had heard someone or something coming, and I dreaded what was to come. _What could be better than having my two ex's meet in such wonderful circumstances?_ One married to another woman, my best friend no less, and the other a servant of Sauron. Could Fate be any crueller? Apparently so, and my heart sank as I saw what Verceron was dragging with him into the dungeon. Slung over his shoulder, even in the dim light opening the door cast, I could see the limp body of Osellë hanging loosely. And I got the feeling Legolas had an even better view. With a cry I saw him throw himself forwards, straining furiously at his bonds, and I would have done the same thing, had I not spent the previous two days doing just that, and I now felt that even one more attempt would sever my arms permanently from my shoulders. So it was with simmering hatred I watched him fasten the shackles around Osellë's wrists and ankles. My fury and rage were dangerously near to bubbling over as Verceron cruelly slapped the unconscious elf on the head, as if in payback. It was my vehement wish that she had given him hell. Legolas let loose an angry tirade of Elvish at this evil treatment, but Verceron barely flinched, instead drawing closer to the elf Prince and smiling viciously. "You have no idea how much I would love to kill you right now, Prince," somehow Verceron managed to make even the common tongue sound like the black speak of Mordor and I added it mentally to his list of other qualities, such as sarcastic and pure evil. "But I've devised a far more painful punishment for you." He practically hissed in Legolas' ear and I could see the Elf turn away in revulsion. I pitied him tremendously, but at the same time I greatly feared what this 'more painful punishment' was to be. Verceron wasted no time in explaining and he quickly crossed the room to my side, Legolas' eyes widened slightly, in understanding and fear, but I remained oblivious, getting more perplexed by the moment. I frowned at Verceron in anger and mild confusion, but all was made clear to me moments later, and I think I would rather have remained oblivious, "I'll torture her and make you listen to each and every little sound she makes." Two feelings crushed in on me all at once, relief that Legolas at least would not be hurt, and dread of what would happen to me, and that I would not be able to mask my pain, and be brave, as I so badly wanted to be. The latter was, to my regret, the stronger, and I writhed suddenly, much to Verceron's amusement, "Killing two birds with one stone, as you might say," he muttered and I spat at him. It hit his shoulder with a satisfying splash and Legolas lifted his head slightly in appreciation. I got the distinct feeling that it was something he would have very much liked to do, but was too noble. I had no such restraint. Verceron wiped it away almost absently and reached up to remove the shackles from my wrists, I began to struggle profusely, trying to both escape his grip and make things as difficult for him as possible. I succeeded at least in the latter and it took him a full five minutes to release my restraints, but I could not shake his vice-like grip. My legs were weak and weary from being stood on for two days with no rest so I could not coax them into rebellion, and the leg shackles fell away quickly. For the first time in ages I stood free. Almost. As the feeling began to flow back into my poor stiff legs, some of my control of them returned and I drove my left heel with all the force I could muster towards his leg with the limp. My target hit home and there was a satisfying crunch of bone smashing, I allowed myself a brief triumphant grin. My triumph was short-lived as he soon delivered a smashing blow of his own to my left cheek, it split the flesh and left me dazed and reeling. I heard Legolas hiss and his chains rattled loudly as he struggled hard against them. I was too dazed to respond, but struggled limply as Verceron began to drag me towards the dungeon door. "I never thought you'd try that trick again Vénea," he muttered harshly, his voice grating in my ear, "I still have the limp from last time." At this Legolas started in surprise, "The limp is Vénea's doing?" he said loudly. He let out a mirthless laugh, throwing his head back. He had never looked more like the rugged, wild Prince of the Woodland Realm, and I was filled with an unexplainable pride. "I am not surprised. And to think she's been going easy on me all these years!" he cried out, loudly once more, his voice filled with false mirth. Verceron did not halt in his pace, nor was he distracted from me as I suspected had been Legolas' intention. "You would never have been man enough for her," he growled as the door slammed shut silencing Legolas' screaming protests and sealing my doom.

"Giving birth was worse," I ground out with as much strength as I could summon. Verceron grimaced and twisted the cog once more. The screaming agony of all my limbs was threatening to push me into darkness, but I fought against its call. The rack that I was bound to was a cruel implement, its very nature and purpose reeking of the darkness of Mordor. For the first time I felt pity for the creature Gollum. Someone had once told me he was tortured by one of these things…My pity was short-lived as those, and all other thoughts, were pushed out of my head with another blinding wave of searing pain. Dimly I clung to the last shreds of consciousness as I heard an Elvish voice screaming out in what I can only describe as physical agony somewhere down the dark and winding corridor. But I was far beyond his reach.

Sometimes I just knew that waking up was a mistake. This was one of those times. Blissful darkness had fallen some time ago and I knew not how long I had wandered in clouded dreams. But something called me back now, something that would not let me rest… Blearily I forced my unwilling eyes to open and was dismayed at what I saw, barely visible in the light drifting through the opened dungeon grille. Both Legolas and Osellë were conscious and crying out for me, calling my name in endless repeating patterns. It was not improving my headache, and I wasted not time in telling them so, " If you are seeking to split my head in two, you are well on your way to achieving it." I ground out, my voice a lot weaker than I would have liked. Osellë's shoulders sagged in relief and she relaxed to hang limply from the shackles, but Legolas only strained harder against his restraints, "What did he do to you? This is my fault; I have never been able to protect you. I should have-" I cut him off wearily, raising my left hand as far as the chains would allow. "Many times have we had this discussion, meleth-" I cut of the term of endearment hastily, "Legolas. It is an argument you have never won and you will not change the record now." He spoke no more, but within his eyes burned a silent fire, which spoke a language that needed no words. He was both furious and deeply ashamed. The feelings were so strong I had to look away to hide the tears welling in the corners of my eyes. I could not deal with this now. My own feelings were too raw and near the surface, and I knew I would not have the self-control to hold them in check. I was saved the terrible prospect of having to face up to my emotional doom, by the entrance of Verceron into the dungeon. Which, I suppose, was a doom in itself. I found myself pondering dimly the irony that the majority of light I had seen in the past few days came when the darkest creature I had ever known was near. But the full irony of the situation was lost on me as the majority of my brain was occupied with battling the debilitating waves of pain and nausea that had plagued me since I awoke. I raised my chin in as defiant a manner as I could muster and turned my face away, pointedly ignoring the man. I heard a chuckle and a scrape of booted feet as my actions snagged on Verceron's interest. Damn, that had not been my intention at all, I had at least meant to mildly vex him, not give the loathsome thing any entertainment. Frustration seemed to bypass all logical routes of thought in my brain, communicating straight from impulse to mouth and no sooner had I spoken the words did I realise what I had said, "Evil spawn of Mordor! You are worse than the dirt on which you stand, I am repulsed to think you ever touched me!" That was not the best of plans and I cursed myself under my breath as the heads of Legolas and Osellë rose sharply, graced with matching furious expressions. I made a terrible comment about Verceron' mother in dwarvish, made all the worse by the fact I had once known Verceron's mother and she had actually been very nice. Neither Legolas nor Osellë even gave me a glance, obviously remembering all too well about my previous comment to Verceron. Now I was going to have to explain, I opened my mouth to do just that, but Verceron had other ideas slamming my head back against the wall he forced a foul-tasting rag into my mouth. The repulsive taste was vaguely familiar, and I realised with numb revulsion and disbelief that it tasted very much the same as the last rag that had been in mouth, last time forced upon me by Mamë. I attempted to get a better look at the offensive scrap of material, surely it could not be the same one returned to plague me? Did my trend of bad luck with plant pots extend to dirty rag cloths as well now? I was disturbed from my horrified revelation as Verceron's words dimly penetrated my aching mind, "We were lovers once," It was my turn to jerk my head up sharply. I was still too dizzy and in too much pain to risk movement, but I recited a number of curses, annoyingly muffled by the aforementioned rag. No one took any notice, but I was too busy trying to catch Verceron's words to be too miffed at that. Verceron was facing away from me, seemingly almost whispering into Legolas' ear, the expression on Legolas' face told me just about everything I needed to know. I tried in vain to displace the rag, but to no avail, the dratted thing held firm and I was forced to watch in utter helplessness what I was about to witness.

* * *

Legolas' blood boiled. How dare anyone speak such of Vénea? His words were lies, they had to be, Vénea was not like that, she would never have done what he said she had. He knew her that well at least. A voice broke into his thoughts, but not from the outside world. Osellë's telepathic voice shouted inside his mind, "_You knew her that well. Who can say how death will change a mortal? She was your wife for but nine years! What is that to truly begin to know a person? She was good to you, yes, but she was good to many, myself included. She betrayed some of them._" Even telepathically the last sentence was bitter and Legolas winced slightly. Telepathic conversations carried a hefty mental impact and someone screaming inside your head was not an easy thing to ignore. He straightened slightly, replying to Osellë, without turning to face her, his gaze never leaving Verceron and the shadow that was Vénea behind him. "_I know her still. She was, and is, not who he says she is! Would you have had her betray her own heart for you? She followed the path she was destined to tread, perhaps her return was foreseen, perhaps not, but she has returned. We must face the consequences._" Legolas broke of the contact and started sharply as Verceron leaned forwards sneering. "You don't seem to be paying me any mind, Elf. I would torture Vénea some more, but I think it would kill her and end the fun far too soon. No, I think I shall have to settle for hurting you this time." His voice grated unpleasantly like a blade dragged over rocks and his breath was foul and reeking. He pulled back slightly and gestured down towards his weapon belt. With that he drew a short dagger from it and drove it in until only the hilt was visible, protruding from Legolas' stomach. A slight twitch to the side and Legolas would have been fatally gutted, but Verceron's aim was cruelly precise. With a satisfied smirk he withdrew the blade and Legolas slumped forward over the injury, his mind reeling in agony. Verceron wandered back almost casually to where Vénea was crouched, watching him through wide, horrified eyes. Calmly he released her shackles and let the metal restraints clang back uselessly against the wall. "You're in no shape to be escaping and I can't be having him dying before he's seen your pretty eyes close for the last time. See to it that he lives the night." He growled and left, not turning to see Vénea race to Legolas' side and cradle his head in her hands, whispering rapidly in Elvish. 'They'll have a fun night,' he thought with dark mirth a she left the chamber. He was not paying any attention to the outside world, so lost was he in thoughts of evil revenge, but if he had and if he had understood the Elvish words screamed down the lantern-lit corridor after him, he might have felt the first beginnings of fear. He would never know how soon the promise would come to pass, "I'll get you for this if it's the last thing I do, hellspawn! You won't live to see another night!"

* * *

Legolas' eyes were closed. Not tightly squeezed shut, nor accompanied by the steady breathing of sleep. Just closed. Panic rose swiftly in a towering wave inside of me, _No, no, no, no… This can't be happening, he can't be dead!_ I would not let him be dead! I screamed out a sentence, quickly masking my curses in Elvish, I did not want Verceron to know my promise as even he might have the dim wits to begin to suspect something, and I did not want him to have any forewarning. I held Legolas' chin up slightly, trying not to wince as I accidentally wiped some of my blood onto his cheek. It contrasted so starkly with his drastically pale skin it stood out like a flaring beacon. He was so pale… I fought to hold the tragic whimper inside of me even as it struggled to break out. This was not how it was supposed to go! I was supposed to be the one dying, not him! It had never occurred to me before, but I supposed then that death was actually hardest for the ones left behind. They have no way of knowing if their loved ones are safe and happy or, as I was, desperately sad. I clung dismally to the hope that I was not about to experience that grief first hand. I tapping on my shoulder annoyed me casually, as does a buzzing fly, I attempted to brush it away but my hand was caught in a bone-crunching grip. I drew in a sharp breath and whirled to face my new tormentor. The unnaturally bright eyes of Osellë met mine. "Help him," she ground out, every word clipped and filled with pain, " I will not stand by and watch him die, because you are to ignorant to help and I am still chained." I was too wrung-out to even offer her a glare; instead I spoke up, "What should I do?" I questioned, my voice trembling slightly, "I am no healer," my voice came out in a plaintive whisper and I cursed myself inwardly for this weakness, but there was nothing I could do. My body's reactions had long been beyond my control. Osellë's expression softened slightly, though her tone remained unchanged, "Press on the wound to stanch the bleeding. He will not like it though, so you may have to restrain his arms." Osellë carried on talking and her words drifted through my mind, seeming to echo around in there until all I could hear was endless repetitions. My hands moved and I watched as they gently caught up Legolas' wrists and, with one hand, held them firmly as the other pressed a wad of clothing, that I dimly recognised as my outer tunic, to the wound. Legolas moaned slightly and struggled, causing me to snap sharply back into full awareness. I rocked forwards, tightening my grip on his wrists and whispering soothingly in Elvish, "Gwiil nin-mellon, uuyech er. Peace my friend, you are not alone." Legolas turned his head towards the sound of my voice and the familiar words, though spoken more often by Aragorn, and quieted immediately. Peeling back the tunic gingerly, I was immensely relieved to see that the flow of blood from the wound had almost stopped. Elven healing would never cease to amaze me. Osellë, too, let out a sigh of relief and sagged slightly against the wall. Wearily I turned my head towards her, careful to keep the pressure on Legolas' wound, and spoke softly, my words sounding like a shout in the hanging silence, "What has happened between us that we have come to this." Osellë did not face me, but her voice, when she spoke, sounded even wearier than mine, "I believe it is the curse of love. That can bind two people together as strongly as it can rip them apart." My head hung forward, all the adrenaline and fear that had kept me upright draining away as the weight and severity of my injuries flowed back into my exhausted brain. I slid down the wall, opening up at least two more welts on my already bleeding arms, but I was too fatigued to care. What was a little more blood-loss? Osellë, however, was more concerned. Pulling forwards against her chains, she spoke softly, the uncovered tension in her voice setting off dim alarm bells in my mind. I pushed myself away from the wall slightly, waving away her concern, "'Tis nothing to fret over. I am not the one who has been stabbed, nor the one who has been beaten into unconsciousness. I believe your concern is misplaced." My words came out with more of an edge to them than I had intended, and I opened my eyes to slits and pushed myself fully away from the wall. "Forgive me, my words were ungracious. I am honoured by your concern, but truly my wounds pain me but a little. I will be well by morning." I lied through my teeth, hoping the words came out sounding natural enough to the elf. A slow burning feeling had consumed my body, spreading out slowly from my almost numb arms and legs and was now at the point where my whole upper body felt like it was on fire. I neglected to mention this to Osellë on account of the fact that it was Legolas who needed our undivided attention at the moment, besides I would last out the night. Or so I sincerely hoped… I pushed that thought from my mind and smiled sweetly at Osellë. My brilliant smile slowly faltered and faded as it was met with an unrelenting glare from the female elf I had been trying to disarm. "You don't fool me, Vénea. I have lived with that one," Osellë jerked her head towards Legolas without taking her eyes off me, "for two hundred years and I know all the tricks. Believe me," the look on her face was practically daring me to disagree, so I pointedly looked away. I heard a distinctly un-elven grunt of disgust, followed by the impatient rattling of chains. I winced in anticipation of what was coming next, "Vénea…" the word itself was a threat and I momentarily toyed with the idea of trying to get as far away from here as possible, very quickly. But I knew it was truly impossible (where would I go anyway?) so I decided to face my doom with dignity, "Yes, Osellë?" The next thing I knew was a blinding pain in my ear, I squealed and tried to bat away the offending hand and its vice-like grip, but my scrabbling had no effect on the ferocity of the squeeze. I squealed again, arching my back slightly, and crouching forward in almost a frog-like position, so to put as little strain on the ear as possible_. So much for my dignity_. The voice of Osellë sounded in my poor, crushed ear, as sweet as ever, "Now, my dear, care to let me take a look at your wounds?"

The morning never came. Or at least that was what it felt like down in that dark, dank and dreary cell. The only indicator that the sun was indeed up was a slight lessening in the bone-deep cold that radiated from the unyielding stone walls on every side, and that temperature rise was only very slight. Legolas had not stirred that whole night. Osellë and I had held vigil through the darkness and both our heads were nodding. Perhaps mine more so, after all Osellë was an elf and, though she had been beaten beyond what would have killed me, her endurance still outlasted mine. I was rather annoyed at this, after all it is never good for one's pride to be told by someone with two black eyes and at least three cracked ribs that _you_ need to 'rest and regain your strength'. I was severely irked and I knew Osellë could tell and was well aware of the reasons behind my irritation, but she never once acknowledged it. I began to wonder if the murder ruling might be considered just, if whoever had made of that law had to spend a night alone in a cell with Osellë. I was just moving on to ponder if it was possible that if I stared long enough at her head it might just explode by the sheer force of my will and growing desperation, when something in the darkness shifted beside me. A cold hand fastened itself in a stranglehold around my neck.

* * *

I have him! That was the one thought in Legolas' confused brain as he tightened his grip on the white throat in his grasp. Now I will make him pay for… Legolas' train of thought broke off sharply as he recognised the hand that gripped his own, trying to pry his hand away from her throat. Vénea? Immediately his hand flew to his side and Legolas stepped as far back as the wall would allow. He had passed out earlier only to come to a kind of hazy semi-awareness about two minutes ago. He tried moved his hand up to massage his forehead in an attempt to clarify his jumbled mind, and found that he had no hands to spare. One was wrapped in a protective grip about his throbbing midriff, while the other seemed to be stuck somehow… Opening his eyes Legolas blinked in surprise at the pale face that stared fiercely into his, his hand firmly snagged in her grip. "Vénea, I didn't mean to do that! I mistook you for-" He got no further. Vénea held up the hand that wasn't busy restraining his own and spoke softly with only a vague hint of annoyance, "Very well. Though it is not pleasant to be strangled, especially not for the second time in one day," Vénea's attempt to lighten the mood fell flat. Legolas' expression darkened instantly and some of the confusion lifted from his eyes. "Verceron." He said darkly. A loud bang from just outside the door distracted them both and the conversation was quickly cut off as Verceron himself strolled into the confines of the dungeon. "Saying our final goodbyes are we?" he questioned, without waiting for a reply. "Just as well. You're about to die."

* * *

I turned away from Legolas, crouching slightly in front of the injured elf, hoping to shield him at least partially from Verceron with my own body. Legolas pushed me aside and rose slowly to a fully standing position. This I could understand, he wanted to meet Verceron standing on his own two feet, it was after all the only way to retain any dignity in a situation like this. I followed suit and rose also to meet Verceron. _Oh, yes, _I thought, pulling myself up to my full height, _I'd rather die standing. _And I was sure I was going to die. Verceron stood idly against the opposite side of the cell, lounging against the wall. "Oh, how touching," he crooned, "Together in everything, even unto death," His face twisted into an expression of mock sadness, "What a shame you're about to be eternally parted. You," he snarled, pointing viciously at Legolas, "I've finally devised a way to punish you and gain my retribution on Vénea. I'll let you go," he finished cheerfully, noticing the disbelieving looks between Legolas and I. Had Verceron truly lost his wits? What kind of punishment was it to set us free? "Oh, no," he growled, an evil smile twisting his face. "Not both of you. Just those two," he whispered softly, indicating with a sweep of his hand a horrified Legolas and the still sleeping Osellë. I was stunned. Indeed this was a cruelty to rival the Dark Lord himself in design, surely no other could have come up with such an evil fate! Verceron was still grinning insanely and it was all I could do to stare at him in utter disbelief. Surely this was too cruel, even for him. "Please," I whispered, not caring if I was begging, "Not this…" Verceron's smile grew even wider, though I would have thought it to be impossible, and he let out a laugh totally devoid of humour. "I have never been more certain," he promised, clearly enjoying every moment of this torture. I have never been so torn. It was a relief in a way, that I would be the only one to pay the ultimate price at Verceron's hands, but if it was mercy it was a cruel one. Words wouldn't form on my tongue and I felt strangely choked, almost as if I was suffocating. Legolas looked exactly as I felt and my heart, at least the part of it that was aware, bled for him. Verceron grasped my left arm in a grip that felt like it would crush the bone, and I winced, allowing him to drag me to the shackles at the other end of the dungeon. Once I was bound once more to the wall, Verceron retraced his steps to Legolas. Unclasping his and Osellë's shackles with a dismissive kind of speed as if he just wanted them out of the way so he could get back to me. I felt sick. _Was I just to be abandoned then?_ I rebuked myself for this thought almost instantly. There was nothing else to be done in this case, and I for one wanted no more blood spilt on my account. I turned my head away as Osellë and Legolas were pushed towards the door, Osellë, having regained consciousness, was struggling against Verceron's grip, but she was still too weak to break free. Legolas was not even trying to struggle, he supported Osellë firmly to the door, keeping a strong grip on her arm to keep her from stumbling, and I could not stop the tears from falling freely down my face. This was it, then, his final choice. Osellë had won as I had always feared, and yet somehow known, that she would. They were leaving me to die alone in a dark dungeon at the hands of a madman. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, the next part I did not want to see, the part where Legolas walked out of my life for good and the door slammed shut behind him blocking out all light and hope. I couldn't watch that. I heard a short cry of surprise from Verceron, and then what sounded like a scuffle, for a brief moment hope flared within me like a beacon. Had they decided I was worth saving after all? I raised my head and opened my eyes to slits, peering into the gloom. The next thing I heard was the thwack of a door closing definitely and even the slight light from beyond it was extinguished. All my hope went out with it. My head sank lower down and I felt as if the bottom had just dropped clean away from my stomach. This was not at all what I had planned my new life to be like, it had all gone so wrong…

_And still I dream he'll come to me _

_And we will live the years together _

_But there are dreams that cannot be _

_And there are storms we cannot weather_

_I had a dream my life would be _

_So different from this hell I'm living _

_So different now from what it seemed _

_Now life has killed _

_The dream I dreamed_

_**Les Miserables – I Dreamed A Dream**_

A noise from the darkness disturbed my thoughts and with his words my heart swelled and broke with love and sorrow. "Osellë leaves," the voice of Legolas sounded in the gloom, "but I stay." A cruel laugh was heard from Verceron, and I stiffened with rage and fierce protectiveness, "Leave him alone, you spawn of Mordor! You are beneath even the earthworms under his feet," I yelled in what I hoped was Verceron's general direction, but my words garnered no reply only a slight sigh, from Legolas. That took me aback, it was the kind of sigh he used when I had just done something very stupid. Even though I knew he could not see me I began to blush slightly, and voiced my annoyance. "I spoke in defence of you, it does not merit one of your sighs!" I heard the sound of swords being drawn and my heart flew into my throat. That damn elf had best not get himself killed! There was a clash of metal, but the darkness surrounded me like a curtain and I couldn't see past that infernal gloom much though I strained to. A few moments later I received a reply I did not expect, " You well deserved 'one of my sighs' as you put it. Here I am fighting to the death to save you, and you go and annoy the very person I'm trying to save you from!" I was momentarily stunned speechless: badly injured, fighting in the pitch black with a servant of Sauron, and Legolas was rebuking me for being lax about self-preservation? "Now I know how Aragorn feels," I muttered, mostly to myself, in exasperation. "What was that?" came a voice from across the room, and I responded with as much innocence as I could muster, considering the situation. "Nothing. I was just making a comment about your constant mothering of me." I knew the response that would garner, I was just hoping our conversation would not distract Legolas too much, but would annoy Verceron to the point that he would make a stupid mistake and Legolas could slip in and get him. Legolas' response was indignant, as I had expected, "I do not mother anyone! I suppose you've been talking to Aragorn again, that man is a very bad influence on everyone! Besides, you were obviously in over your head." This infuriated me; how dare he suggest I was incapable of taking care of myself! "I'll have you know I was in perfect control of the situation," I sniffed haughtily. "In fact, you ruined my escape plan." There was an incredibly loud disbelieving snort from the darkness. "Yes… of… course… you… were." Legolas replied in between strikes and parries. The pair had strayed into the shaft of light from the grille and I could see the taught fury on Verceron's face at being so easily dismissed, despite the fact the two of them were locked in a fight to the death. "You had everything under perfect control," he continued as Verceron backed off slightly and began circling, looking for an opportunity to attack."You weren't chained to a wall, unable to move, badly injured, and crying your eyes out, no. You had a plan all along. And you didn't want me to stay because I'd mess it up. How simply obvious, what a fool I've been thinking I would save your life." His voice sounded tired and strained, though he hid it well. I knew he wouldn't be able to last much longer. But, his words hit too close to home in my heart. Was that what he truly thought of me? If it was, then now was the time to get things straight once and for all. "No, I whispered to the pair, still circling each other warily. " I didn't want you to stay because I love you." Both of them stopped dead, turning to stare at me, Legolas in open-eyed wonder, and I thought I saw joy dancing in the depths of his blue eyes. Verceron's stare was of malice, and hate. Legolas was distracted his guard was down, his sword was still gripped in his hands, pointing upwards, but its tip was drooping. Verceron seized his chance. Spinning like a black devil he lanced himself forwards with a booming cry of something in the black tongue. Legolas brought his sword up slightly at the last second in a desperate parry, but it was too late. Verceron's blade had already slipped past his defences and all Legolas did was alter itscourse. Instead of piercing his heart, which had been Verceron's intended target, the blade drove into Legolas' torso. And pierced his lung. Legolas did not make a sound; he sank slowly to the ground, Verceron's sword protruding from him like a dark and unnatural third limb. His eyes began to glaze over and I was frozen, every nightmare, every horror I had ever imagined playing out now before my eyes. I began to scream. And I didn't stop. I didn't even stop when the wooden door flew across the room and a figure appeared in the swirling eddies of dust and wood chips. Aswen stepped into the cell, her midnight black hair bound in a loose braid over on shoulder, her sword drawn and ready. She looked furious and I had never been more pleased to see her, or that particular look on her face, a look that could wilt cabbages at ten paces. The last time I had seen thatlook had been when I had exchanged her best perfume for dissolved itching powder in water. She spent her entire anniversary night scratching relentlessly and convinced both Eldreth and Legolas that she had fleas, I had to hide behind Legolas for a week to avoid loosing the use of all the body parts an extremely vexed Aswen could reach. I hid a small wicked smile: Verceron was for it now. She walked straight over to me and smashed her sword down on my wrist restraints. I was surprised when I went flying forwards, but not immensely so. Apparently I had been pulling against my fetters so hard that the sudden release sent me flying, but I used my momentum to reach Legolas where he lay. He had not moved from where he had fallen, but when I laid my hand on his chest I could feel the faint rise and fallof his breath and I was so relieved that for a moment I couldn't actually move. Seconds later I was forced to. Aswen and Verceron thundered past me, the sudden rush of air pushing a few straggling strands of hair from my face. They were fighting ferociously, Aswen throwing fast and furious attacks and Verceron parrying them almost lazily. It was then that I felt my first pang of fear: surely Verceron should be showing a little more fear if he was in even any remote danger of being beaten? But he was not. In fact, if anything, Verceron almost looked relaxed, like a cat that hasn't got the cream yet, but knows exactly where it is and that no one else can get it. I narrowed my eyes at him and glared, hoping to make him falter by the sheer force of my will alone. My glare was no more effective than it had been when Legolas was fighting with him, and the need for Verceron to lose had been all the greater then. Aswen was being forced to go on the defensive. Slowly, bit by bit, Verceron was backing her into a corner, his strikes becoming ever faster and harder for Aswen to parry. It was as if I was watching history repeat itself, and the repeat was no easier to bear than the original had been. The only difference was that last time it was Legolas that Verceron had been pushing back, and look how well that turned out. I wanted to scream, to cry out, to fly forward and drag Verceron away from my friend, but, for not the first time, that day I was frozen to the spot. I could only watch in horror as Verceron leaned all his weight onto the blade, forcing Aswen to lean back until it reached a point thatit looked like she had either to give in or snap, when something changed. Aswen smiled. And started pushing back. Now it was Verceron who looked like he would snap, every muscle in his arms and legs was straining against Aswen, I could see them bulging against the material of his shirt and trousers, but he was losing the battle. Verceron slowly slid backwards and Aswen chased him back across the room, the way he had forced her. Verceron's eyes were panicked, darting this way and that, searching, desperate for an escape, a way out. None was forthcoming, the only possible exit was the empty doorframe, but I shifted my position, lifting Legolas in my arms until we were positioned blocking the gap. Legolas had still not stirred and I could feel his ever more erratic pulse under my fingers. I wished Aswen would stop playing with Verceron and get it over with, we had no time to torture the man, much though I may have wished to. Aswen must have sensed my thoughts for her very next strike was the intended take-down, an unstoppable blow that would pierce Verceron through the heart and end his cursed life. Verceron's sword was down, he could not parry, she drove the blade in and there was just time for me to see the look of horror on Verceron's face before he exploded into dust. The fine grey powder settled slowly on the room and I closed my eyes briefly. Foul, unnatural creature though Verceron had been these past centuries, I could still remember the boy he was when I first knew him. That boy had not deserved such a fate. I was disturbed from my thoughts by a soft touch on my arm. I looked up to see the face of Aswen staring intently into mine. "I came as soon as I could. When Osellë came… we all knew the two royals had been absent these past few days, but we never suspected…" her voice trailed off and a single tear tracked down her cheek, creating one smooth clean line in the dust that covered her. I blinked and looked up at her, "Osellë is well?" I asked my whisper booming like a shout in the oppressive silence. Aswen nodded slightly, "The best of our physicians are taking care of her," I gave a curt nod of my own and attempted to rise to myfeet. "Legolas is badly hurt," I told her, though she already knew, judging by the desolate look on her face. "He needs help, now," I dropped to my knees, the energy needed to stand out of my reach. Aswen moved closer anxiously, "You too are not well," she informed me and I rolled my eyes at her for stating the obvious. "Though," she added, a glimpse of the old Aswen I knew flaring in her eyes, "You are looking remarkably well for someone who has been dead these past two hundred years. How-" I cut her off, raising one hand and inclining my head slightly, "Trust me," I whispered, not feeling able to talk any longer, "You really don't want to know." She raised one eyebrow, but nodded slightly and I allowed myself to relax. She would pursue it no further for the moment, which was good as I felt nowhere near up to explaining it to her right then. I leaned my head back against the cool wall, the tension that had built up in me slowly ebbing as the realisation that all the danger of the past few days was over hit me at last. The body under my hand jerked suddenly and I flew bolt upright, panic flooding me, no, he couldn't die now, not when we were finally safe! I leaned forwards, "No, Legolas, no, not now! Meleth-nin, you have to hold on!" I cried into his ear, hoping that somehow he could hear me. Dimly I could hear Aswen calling out in Elvish, her voice as frantic as I felt. But I could not speak, I was trapped in a nightmare of silence, where my mouth moved but no sound seemed tocome out and no one heard me. Elves were rushing around me and taking Legolas into their arms, this I allowed, mainly because I was too numb to do anything else, but I would not relinquish my grip on his hand. I followed the healers to a small chamber nearby and stood at his bedside, unable to move, feeling like I wasn't even breathing. The world had taken on a dream-like quality and it was easy to convince myself that it wasn't real. I would just wake up in my own bed and the nightmare would be over. I was in fact awoken a few seconds later, but it was a different awakening to the one I had hoped. Osellë burst into the room, her fine dress in tatters and streaming out behind her like a magnificent train. She looked every each the Woodland Queen, andLegolas every inch the Woodland King, his pale face enchantingly smudged and his hair ruffled almost into disarray. They fitted together, it was every happy ending in every fairytale I had ever heard of. The King and his Queen, never any mention of an uncomfortable third party in the shadows, watching from a distance. I did not fit in, I did not belong. I was the pea under the mattress, the Beast without any Beauty. I was not a part of this fairytale. I took a step backwards, away from the bed, my mind half made up. Osellë turned, her fawn brown eyes glistening with unshed tears, "What have you done?" her words echoed in my head. I took another step back, tears of my own falling now. What had I done? I released my grip on Legolas' hand, but without warning his eyes flew open and he gripped my hand, not letting me leave. I gave a cry and writhed harder, pulling at his grip, his eyes closed again and he sank down, moaning even in unconsciousness. I wrenched my hand finally from his grasp and fled that room, the stares of its occupants boring into my back, I heard Aswen cry out for me to stop, but I just kept running. I ran and ran, not caring where I was going, as my tears obscured my vision. I reached the eaves of Mirkwood and I dove in, the trees sheltering me from the offensive sight of the palace.

Tree branches moaned in the wind and the shadows cast leapt and danced in the filtered light of the moon. A far distant sobbing could be heard as a maiden tore through the wood, leaving behind a glistening trail of tears on the fallen leaves.

_Can't stop, you can't stand to fight her  
Won't stop, you can't say the words _

Please, please forgive me  
But I won't be home again  
Maybe someday you'll look up  
And, barely conscious, you'll say to no one  
Isn't something missing?

You won't cry for my absence, I know  
You forgot me long ago  
Am I that unimportant  
Am I so insignificant  
Isn't someone missing me?

_  
Even though I'm the sacrifice  
You won't try for me, not now  
Though I'd die to know you love me,  
I'm all alone  
Isn't someone missing me?_

_**Evanescence - Missing**_


	10. Where Do I Go From Here?

**Part Ten**

**Where Do I Go From Here?**

_All of these miles and where have I been? All of this time that I've wasted_

_All of my dreams they're just gone like the wind_

_Yeah – I've got to face it_

_There's nowhere to go from here_

_Standing here cold and shaken_

_How did I lose my way?_

_On this long lonely road that I've taken_

_**Bryan Adams – Where Do I Go From Here**_

I think it was the nights that were the loneliest. Never does anyone realise just how wonderful what they had was until it is forever beyond their grasp. I was no exception.

I was housed now in a wooden hut on the outskirts of a small town called Harrowcath. The boards that constructed its floor and walls were encrusted with rot and decay was rife on every surface. But it was a roof over my head, even if it was a leaky one. My arrival had caused quite a stir in this sleepy town, and why not! A young maiden appearing from the woods in the dead of night, trailing blood and weeping, dressed in the garb of the Wood Elves. It was no small wonder then that the Head of the Village had approached me with handfuls of garlic to drive me away like I was some common vampire! At the time the humour of the situation had been lost on me. In my bedraggled state it had taken me some time to calm down enough to explain myself and even longer for them to realise that there really was no need for the garlic. I had been offered the small hut on the northern border by the village head and his spouse, and I was all too eager to accept. The hut would require some work, but I wasn't leaving anytime soon and something to do would take my mind off… things. Throughout the day I laboured with Anelle, the maidservant of the Head and his wife. Together we washed, cleaned and cared for their eleven children. Quite how they managed to get so many was beyond me; I hadn't even been able to manage two! It took Anelle's gentle explanation to convince me that they hadn't all come at once. They were an unruly rabble, unused to adult authority and given free reign of the village. No one dared oppose them for fear of their parent's response. The village head, Thornhill I think his name, was a fat, balding man. He was quick to temper and could remain in a rage for days. Anelle had warned me to stay clear of him; he was unused to change and despised anything that hinted of progress or 'regress' as he called it. He had demonstrated such on my first day of arrival, when he saw me grinding herbs with a pestle and mortar, instead of the traditional, worn-smooth flat rock. "Huh, progress," he had snorted, his nostrils flaring and layers of fat scrunching up as he frowned, "Regress more like." I never liked him, and I liked his wife even less. She was a simpering slip of a woman, masking a non-existent figure under a shapeless sheet of material that she called a dress. She was suspicious of everyone who was female and prettier than she was, which was almost the entire non-masculine population of the village. It was no secret that she despised Anelle and myself most of all. We were after all both working in the house of her lusting husband all day everyday, and therefore a constant risk. She went out of her way to make our lives just that extra bit harder, and Anelle's wage a considerable amount less. It was no small wonder the children paid their parents no mind. In that first week of working there I discovered within myself a dormant set of feelings. Maternal, motherly ones, that kicked in when I saw all those children under my care. It was a very strange sensation and one I was most unused to, but I made best use of it. The children's behaviour certainly calmed down a bit after my arrival, as many people in the village noted. In fact, mainly because of that development, I became quite well liked. Anelle had a lovely young man, who she planned to marry within the year, and one night she invited me to go to the village tavern with the both of them. She said it would be my opportunity to 'meet people', but I could read the inflection in her words. She wanted me to meet 'a certain male someone' and even though I knew her intentions were good the very thought of it made me feel sick. As far as I was concerned there was no one else but Legolas, and I had lost him, through my own folly I might add. I consented to go however, if it would give Anelle some peace of mind. I knew that she had been fretting over me these past few weeks and I did not relish the thought of the coddling I would have to endure, should I refuse.

I should have refused. That was my first thought as we walked into the crowded bar area. Even extensive coddling would have been preferable to this! The place was putrid with the stench of too many men, drunk on too much liquor. Every instinct was screaming at me to run, but I fought them down, forcing myself to enter that tavern calmly, head held high. I swallowed hard, my throat tightly constricted and I could feel a burning, stinging pain building up behind my eyes. I dabbed in what I hoped was a surreptitious manner at my damp eyes with the sleeve of my cotton dress. I was not surreptitious enough, however, as seconds later Anelle was at my elbow, her fair face flushed with concern, "Vénea! You are weeping! What has brought you to tears so suddenly?" I muttered a curse beneath my breath for my carelessness. As a result of my folly I may now have to endure the coddling as well as a visit to this wretched place. I began to stammer out a sentence hoping it was not too late to repair the damage my tears had done, "Please Anelle, do not overreact! It was but the smoke that caught me unawares!" I hoped, though I believed my hopes to be ultimately futile, that she would not hear the tremor in my voice. This place reminded me far too much of Legolas and the palace of Mirkwood, though I could not for the life of me think why. It was as far removed from the tranquil halls and laughing elves as any place I had been these past few months, but everything seemed to conspire against me to replay that final scene of the tear-stained face I had seen in the healing wing. I realised I had to sit down and soon. I plonked into the stool nearest me, not caring that I was now sat at one of the stools nearest the bar. Anelle buzzed around me for about five minutes, like a mother crowding her young with attention and protectiveness. I felt positively smothered. I managed to shoo her away with the lie that all I needed was a little time to myself to regain my composure. Even after that I caught her supposedly discreet looks my way for a full half-hour before she finally devoted her night to her future husband. It was taking all of my self-control not to turn green with envy. How could some people be so lucky? So darn fortunate to have all they wanted right there within their grasp and totally obtainable, should they but reach out their hand? And yet, they still spend what felt like every waking moment complaining about it? If I hadn't been sitting opposite a mirror I would have found it very hard to convince myself that I was even of the same species of people that I currently shared a tavern with. As it was, I just tried not to look into the mirror, I found the very sight of myself intolerably depressing at that moment. A sudden waft of alcohol stronger than any I had previously come into contact with stung my nostrils. I grimaced and raised one hand to shield my face and my poor sensitive nose as a huge, reeking man leaned across the wooden bar surface towards me. "You want anything to drink, love?" he questioned groggily, his words slurred and flowing together almost gloopily: how I imagined treacle would sound if it could talk. I was about to shake my head in the negative when he offered me a putrid smelling decanter. "It's the easiest way to forget, love. If you've got something you'd rather not think of, this is the very thing to drown your sorrows." I gave a slight nod, accepting the decanter still somewhat warily. The best way to forget, eh? I took a stilted sip, the liquid burning down my throat to light a fire in my stomach. It was not altogether unpleasant and I found myself taking a longer drink.

"Then, do you know what he said to me?" I slurred, my voice oozing out from my mouth, my tongue feeling totally beyond my control. "He said, _hic_… he said…" I paused, glancing down to study the disappointingly dry bottom of my pint glass. "I say, barman," I stuttered, raising my voice as high as I could get it, "I need a refill here. It's a bit empty." He rolled his eyes as he made his way over to me, carrying with him a jug of some amber liquid. "You lookin' for a refill of-" I cut him, raising a hand as sharply as I could. "I don't care what it is," I told him raising my chin, and defiantly not caring if my words all slid together in one incoherent jumble, "just fill her up there, my good man!" He poured some of the liquid into my glass, and I watched him with as much eagerness as I could muster. When he finished I grasped the glass unsteadily, trying to get my unresponsive hand to stay steady and so spill as little drink as possible. "I hope you've got enough money to pay for all this, doll," The bartender said, scrutinising me carefully. I looked up, my eyes wide, only his voice having alerted me to the fact he was there at all, and I found him an untimely intrusion in my steaming tirade against my ex. "I thought you said that I wouldn't have to pay, after I'd had such a hard time with my ex-husband, an' all?" I questioned blearily, too far gone to really care about or understand what I was saying.

I landed in the street outside with a harsh bump. "And don't come back!" came the cry from the door, before it slammed shut in my face. I raised my eyebrows slightly; that had been the bartender. And I had thought him to be such an understanding man! I muttered something about all men being pigs as I wobbled to my feet. I staggered slightly, stumbling into the gutter as I meandered across the dirt road, my feet stubbornly refusing to go straight ahead. I didn't really care where I was going, so long as it was in the general direction of home. A walk that had taken me ten minutes on the way there took me one hour to get back. I arrived on my doorstep, one twig protruding from my birds-nest of a hairstyle, after a rather interesting encounter with a most displeasing briar bush. I sure taught that bush a lesson! It won't pick a fight with me again! Nasty bush like that was probably raised in a plant pot! But I suppose I couldn't fault it for the way it turned out if it had stared life in something as pure evil as a plant pot. I was so distracted with thoughts of the origins of that briar bush that I walked straight into the door. Moments later I landed on the stone doorstep with a drunken giggle. I had forgotten to open the silly thing! I stood up, still giggling, and turned the handle, almost falling into my house as the door swung open suddenly. I landed face first on my worn out little bed, the springs creaking dangerously, but I was fast asleep before I had even had chance to roll over.

I woke up with the mother of all hangovers. I frowned and groaned, my throat feeling as dry and crusty as sandpaper. I tried to sit up, but fell back instantly, covering my eyes protectively and holding my head to keep it from rocking straight off my shoulders, as it had felt inclined to when I first sat up. It was a couple of minutes before I dared to move again. I staggered to my feet and made it to the sink and mirror in my bathroom by a very convoluted route. For a moment I didn't recognise the face that stared back at me from the mirror. Her hair was bedraggled and hung in greasy clumps, around a face that was stained with tears and mud. And was that a twig in my hair? I pulled at it half-heartedly; I hadn't had any real reason to care about my appearance for a while now. Not since Legolas had… Wait a minute, thinking about Legolas brought back a dim recollection of the night before: Legolas' name followed by a lot of very bad words in several languages. Oops… But he deserved it, I thought, a furious blush staining my cheeks a guilty crimson. I sucked in a deep breath, trying to hold it in my lungs for a long as possible, before letting it out in a long slow whoosh. Valar, how I missed him! I missed waking up every morning and seeing his face, I missed his laugh, and I missed his smile that could light up an entire room in seconds. But most of all I missed not knowing if he was even out there under the same sky, staring up at the same stars. I didn't even know if Legolas was alive or dead. I shook my head slowly, a betraying tear leaking out to splash desolately into the sink I leant over. How I could I get on with my life when my heart was already lost to someone I knew didn't love me? How could I move on? The answer was simple. I couldn't. A mocking little voice chanted inside my head 'Can't forgive and can't forget'. I was doomed.

_Into each life some sun must shine_

_Well, someone else must be getting mine_

_The days are so empty_

_Nights are so long_

_Awaking to find again that you've gone_

_I used to say you were wonderful_

_Now I just wonder where you are_

_It's easy to say memories fade_

_But I'm still missing you_

_Nothing's changed… _

_**Steps – Deeper Shade of Blue**_

The pounding in my head was not letting up. I shook it slightly, hoping somehow to clear the cobwebs that had clouded it since I first woke up, but to no avail. Life seemed to be one long unending blur today… The feeling of Anelle shaking my shoulder came to me dimly and I gave her a distant smile, only to be graced in return by an incredulous look. "What are you doing with William?" she questioned, almost as if she was afraid of the answer. I stared at her for a couple of moments without a clue what she was going on about. William was the youngest son of the head and his wife and as such the most spoilt of the lot. It was William I was currently dunking in and out of the sink, having neglected to actually take the shirt off his back before washing it. "Oops…" I commented, dropping him back into the water like a red hot coal, before fishing him out again on the off-chance that he might drown. Non-too-carefully I deposited the soaking wet child onto the draining board next to me and with an unusual feeling of detachment, wondered how long it would take him to dry out, or at least cough all of the water out of his lungs. I carried him to the step outside, absently rubbing his back to dislodge the water that seemed to have accumulated; knowing the sun would dry him off. Fortunately he was still too busy choking to call for his parents or I would have spent my last few moments in the village there and then. As it was, by the time he could draw enough breath to speak he would probably have dried off and then would have no evidence to condemn me. His parents would most likely shrug it off as a fanciful tale and though I did feel remorse about almost drowning the boy, it might at least take his ego down a much-needed peg or two. I decided to make it up to him later by not informing his parents of the prank he would most likely pull on me by the end of the afternoon and so spare him the indignity of being exiled to his room with no supper. I continued my trail back through the door, my head still pounding relentlessly. Even the swish of my skirt hem against the doorjamb sounded like the roar of an incoming tide. A familiar noise penetrated my aching mind. A sound that was oh, so familiar and yet totally incongruous to me now. It was a voice I had never thought to hear again… "Have you seen a woman pass through? Perhaps in that month just gone. She would have looked young, less than thirty by your years." I froze on the spot, utterly unable to move. This could not be happening. This scene had played in my mind in all of my happiest dreams and worst nightmares. But this was no dream or nightmare now, I was awake and this was really happening. It was all just too much – why return now, just when I was beginning to move on? Well, maybe not move on, but at least make progress on my new life, a life where that voice had no place, whether I wanted it to or not. It was impossible now, my mind told me that. But my heart… my heart was ripping itself in two all over again, as it had in every dream I had had, every wish, every hope, every fear had opened the wound a little further, a little deeper. But no more. I couldn't take it! How was I supposed to endure all the heartache, all the second-guessing, and stay sane? No one could! My mind came to its own conclusion and I made a break to escape from the doorway, wedging the wood in place behind me as a barrier against the voice and its owner. Not this time. I had given too much, tried too hard, and broken my heart over and over again too many times to put myself through it again. My hands found a blade. Was this the only answer? A painful fight to end a year of hurting? Could I justify that to myself and to the one I was about to attack? There was no answer, not from me, not from that inner voice in my head, but from Anelle in the corner of the room. Stepping forward she looked at me, looked at the sword within my grasp, saw the tears at the corners of my eyes. She laid her hand firmly on my shoulder and spoke, "You do what you have to do."

* * *

Legolas stood in the middle of a town of mortals. It was not a situation he felt comfortable with, not at all, but then love and romance can do crazy things to a man. Or to an elf, for that matter. He was here for her. The trees had told him that she had passed this way on that fateful night so long ago. What had driven her here? He loved her, was she too blind to see that, or did she realise and had left anyway? He had no answers, but then, that was why he had come here, to find the answers, to put a stop to all the possible scenarios that kept playing in his head. To make sure she really was alive. But what then? A voice from within questioned. What if she does not want you? What if she has found someone new, someone she can be with without fear? What if she has forgotten all about you? He was so busy trying to block out the thoughts of doubt and despair that were creeping into his mind that he did not hear the person sneaking up behind him, nor did he see the shadow as the sword was raised to plunge down into his back.

* * *

I froze. The sword was raised in position above his unsuspecting back, my arms were straining with the leashed tension it would need to drive that sword down and end it there and then. Do it now! My eyes narrowed slightly, and my arms trembled but made no move to strike. Damn that elf, I could not do it! Not then, not tomorrow, not ever! It was no use, I was still too far in love with him to even risk getting any nearer to him with the blade than I already was. I took a huge stride backwards, lowering the blade to a safer height and adjusting my grip on the hilt. He chose that moment to turn. For a second I was frozen all over again, though this time for completely different reasons. He looked just as he had the first time I had ever seen him, leaning over the prow of a boat, a playful breeze catching stray locks of his hair, some two hundred years ago. I shifted my position again, moving so that the tip of the blade was firmly embedded in the earth at my feet, it effectively blunted the sharpened end and helped me to stay upright on my increasingly weakening legs. I tossed my hair slightly over one shoulder, trying to affect an air of total nonchalance even though my every sense was on hyper-alert, every pore on my skin aware of his movements. "Hello Legolas, it's been awhile." Of all the understatements I've ever heard not another has come even remotely close to that one. To me it felt as if I had been deprived of this sight of him for an entire lifetime, and I was staring at him as hard as I could, hoping to imprint his image on my eyes forever. He whirled suddenly at the sound of my voice and stared at me breathlessly as if there were a million things he wanted to say to me , all perched on the tip of his tongue. Then his expression changed. He cocked his head at me slightly. "Vénea," he spoke, his voice slightly husky. I felt my knees go weak all over again and doubled the intensity of my grip on the sword until my knuckles turned white. "Hmmm?" I managed, unable to come out with anything more substantial. "I have missed you." I blinked, my eyes filling up with tears so fast that my vision suddenly became a blur. My voice was thick when I replied and unsteady, though I strove to keep it even, "And I you." He stepped forwards, towards me, just a tiny motion but I felt that he would have liked to move closer, but was afraid of my reaction. "Vénea," he whispered again, and my knees failed completely. I fell to the floor with a completely undignified thump, and tried to make my fall look natural. "Just needed to sit down for a bit," I murmured as an excuse as Legolas flew to kneel beside me in concern. Inwardly, I berated myself for ruining the moment; what kind of fool falls over at a time like this? "Your kind of fool, apparently," Legolas replied, a hint of a grin tugging at his lips. He shrugged slightly as I blinked up at him and answered my silent question, "I could read the thoughts on your face. I've known you long enough." I gave a shy, half-smile. Was this really happening? Could Legolas and I really be here? Or was this another one of the cruel tricks Fate has been known to play on me sometimes. I knew that I could never go through having to be parted from him, not again so I was just hoping against hope that Fate had decided to play nicely for once. "What I wanted to say," Legolas continued, apparently having recovered from the shock of my sudden tumble to ground level, "was… Why were you trying to kill me?" I blinked in surprise. Had I heard him right? Had he just built up all that tension, just to ask me that question? Where were all the professions of undying love, all the renewed wedding vows and proposals getting down on one knee? All things considered it was a fair enough question, but even that realisation was not enough to quell the disappointment that rose up in me. I heaved a huge sigh and struggled to regain my feet. Legolas reached out a hand and tried to catch my wrist in his grasp to pull me up, but I neatly evaded him and continued alone. He pulled back slightly, a hurt look crossing his features, Once I had regained my feet and, to some extent my control, I looked him squarely in the eye. "I don't know what you think happened the last time we saw each other, Prince Legolas, but for me it was one of the most painful ordeals I have ever endured and I'm not talking about the torture. You broke my heart, not once but twice, and I was not ready to go through that again. So, yes, I was going to kill you." I finished strongly and raised my chin slightly. He just looked at me, a thousand words conveyed in that brief glance and my heart began to pound so viciously that I thought it would rip out of my chest. Then he broke the contact, his eyes losing their previous intensity and a smile began to grow on his lips. I was thoroughly perplexed. How could what I had just confessed ever be construed as even remotely funny? "You would never kill me," he stated simply and I felt my ire rise even more strongly than before. How dare he? Just because I was a woman, and a woman who had loved him at that, he thought I was incapable of killing him? Though I had just proved to myself that he was inescapably right, that was knowledge I decided to skip over that particular piece of information for the moment. "What, so you see me as no threat at all?" I questioned. I stepped towards him angrily. He backed up a pace. "Do I not merit even turning around to face when I am holding a drawn sword at your back? Just because I am a woman…" Legolas allowed me to go no further. Stepping forwards again he quickly closed the gap between us, his vibrant eyes clouded with concern "No Vénea, how could you think such a thing? I do not think you would not kill me because of your gender!" He continued, leaning closer towards me so our foreheads were almost touching, "I know you would not kill me because of who you are. You love me." I felt one half of my mind instantaneously turn to mush, he was right, of course he was right, I did love him. But the other half felt turned almost to steel. Regardless of the truth in his words he had no right to expect such emotion from me, nor to just assume it. This was one big-headed elf who needed to be brought down a peg or two! "How dare you!" I began, advancing towards him even further, "You can't just assume that! I just told you how you broke my heart, drove me to live alone out here, and you have the nerve to suggest that I can't kill you because I still love you? That is as may be, but you have no right…" Again he stopped my words, cutting me off in my prime. But not with another sentence. With a kiss. I melted against him; it was all I could do not to fall right back down to the floor again, there and then. When he broke of I was almost ashamed of the whimper of protest that broke from my lips. Almost. After all, he was a really good kisser… He drew back from me, lowering his eyes to my level he spoke once more, "I love you, too." I blinked. Now not only did my entire body feel turned to mush, my lips still tingled slightly and I was completely struck dumb. Had my mind not been totally occupied by staring in utter disbelief at the elf in front of me I would have felt incredibly embarrassed. How could he love me? After all I had done, after all I had said he was still willing to say those things? What of Osellë, what of the child he had with her? My mind was whirling with questions; too many, too close together for me to be able to discern one enough to actually speak it and have it answered. I stood stock still, rooted to the spot and feeling more stupid by the second. Legolas leaned forwards slightly, his blue eyes narrowed with concern, "Vénea?" he spoke hesitantly. "Did you hear me?" I made no response, for two main reasons, one that I was still too shocked to move, and two that I was trying to figure out a fool-proof way to test if I was actually dreaming. A third and more distant reason was that I figured that after all he put me through he deserved to stew in his own juices for a while. I managed to break myself from that stupor, my eyes focusing on him once more and he smiled suddenly in relief. Right then, I thought to myself. It's now or never. I can do this now or I can spend the rest of my life regretting not doing it, it's time to stand up and be counted, it's time to be the person I used to be. I stepped a pace backwards, I held my head up high, chin raised. "Legolas," I said, my tone low but unwavering, "You may take me home now." 


	11. A Twisted Destiny

**Part Eleven **

**A Twisted Destiny**

_And now I know it's true_

_My every road leads to you_

_And in the hour of darkness_

_Your light gets me through_

_You run like the river – you shine like the sun_

_You fly like an eagle_

_You are the one I've seen every sunset_

_And with all that I've learned_

_Oh it's to you – I will always return_

_**Bryan Adams – I Will Always Return**_

Well, well, well. Mirkwood had not changed very much over the few months, and indeed years, I had been absent. In fact, it looked just as it had all those centuries ago when Legolas and I had arrived here to see King Thranduil in all his glory before he had departed for the Undying Lands shortly after Legolas and I were wed. The trees were tall and green, casting their majestic shadows over the forest floor and those on it. The sky glowed a deep orange-yellow and the songbirds trilled out their songs to anyone who would listen. I was mesmerised by it. Of all the places I had lived, of all the things and wonders I had seen, nothing compared to this. I gave a short gasp of wonder as we drew nearer to the palace itself, I couldn't help it. Yes, I had been here before and yes, I had even lived here for going on nine years, but it felt like a lifetime since I had really seen it. My last visit had been a little too fraught to really enjoy sightseeing. The last dying rays of sunlight played over the roof of the palace and the delicately wrought pillars, interwoven with branches and animals seemed to come alive in the sunset's glow. Legolas, sitting next to me, gave a soft sigh and even in the dim interior of the carriage I could see the contented expression on his face and knew he would have no trouble seeing the twin expression on mine. "I did not realise how much I had missed it here," I whispered, my voice sounding soft and loud in the confined space. Legolas moved slightly and I could hear the rustle of his clothes on the coach's fabric seats as he shifted position to loop his arm about me and draw me in for a hug. I went with absolutely no resistance, after all why should I resist when everything felt so right? I leaned my head back and it came to rest comfortably on his shoulder, my face a mere breath away from his. All of a sudden the space in the carriage didn't seem confined, but cosy and I let myself go into the moment. Even in the blessedly calm state that I was in, a nagging worry came back to disturb me. It was my worst fear, a fear that had not been assuaged since we left Harrowcath and now I felt the time had come to voice it. Fears are a very hard thing to speak about, sometimes it feels that if we can but keep them in our heads they won't be real, but if we mention them out loud and their existence is confirmed by someone else, then there will be no more pretending. I for one was terrified that my fear would not turn out to be groundless, that I would confess it and have it confirmed there and then, but I knew I had to speak it anyway or go mad. My courage thus found I opened my mouth, "Legolas, what of Osellë?" I asked, my throat feeling as dry as sandpaper. "What has happened to her? Well I know that you were wed, but has that passed now, or are we in fact committing adultery just by sitting here?" Legolas grimaced and turned away slightly and I felt a yawning chasm open in the pit of my stomach. My voice faded to a forlorn whisper, "I must know." Legolas gave a small, short nod, conceding my point. "And you shall." He told me, his own voice sounding forlorn. "Forgive me, the pain was still too near to speak of it, but as you are a part of it, you must know." He sighed deeply and shifted position slightly as if working up the courage to speak. "When you left I was at death's door. Verceron had pushed me too near to death and I could feel my life force ebbing, as could those around me, I think, for I heard sobbing." Legolas paused then, a slight frown marring his perfect features. "I do not understand what happened next," he informed me, "at the time I told no one of it, especially Osellë, as I knew how it would upset her and confuse everyone else." He stopped and turned to face me directly, " I heard you, I heard your voice. You were calling out for me, crying and weeping and then calling out again. I heard you and I knew that I could not leave you, not like that, so I forced myself back. All around me was peaceful, almost golden, and I could see the gateway to Mandos ahead of me. All I can say is I began to struggle, there was a force tugging me closer and I fought it, screaming out your name. That was when the really strange thing happened. The force stopped and I was held still. A voice spoke to me, it was beautiful, but it sounded vaguely amused and annoyed, it said to me, 'You are Legolas Greenleaf?' and I nodded. The voice sighed and made the strangest comment. 'I'd never hear the end of her,' it said and then I was whisked backwards and suddenly I was in a body that hurt and I could hear people shouting out my name. Then I passed out. I woke up five weeks later and when I was healed enough to talk I told Osellë that I still loved you. I said that I loved her too, but I had to find you. The following day she left, taking our daughter with her. I fear I will never see either of them again, for I left the day after to come and retrieve you. Now I'm afraid I have no idea what we are returning to." He finished and sighed, a long and slow breath. I could hear the despair and sorrow in it and in that moment I knew. He really had loved Osellë. I sank deeper into the soft seats in the coach. I had screwed everything up big-style. This was all my fault. I had had my time with Legolas, I had brought my two beautiful boys into the world, and I had refused to give it up so Osellë could have her turn. What kind of monster was I? My heart began to pound hard and fast with a mixture of shame and horror. Now that I knew what I had done, I also knew what I must do. I had to die. That was the way it had been destined to be, the way that had been foreseen by everyone. Probably it was even the reason that Elrond had always been so kind to me. He had foreseen my death. My breath began to come in short shallow gasps to match my pounding heart and my vision started to swim. How hard would it be to put a stop to my own life? I had killed orcs, hundreds of them, but suicide would be different. I wondered if I had the courage. Before, when I first found out that it had been two hundred years since my death and Legolas had remarried, I had not even considered it. I had weathered utmost despair and my sword had stayed sheathed by my side. But now… Now I knew that I was not meant to live, not meant to feel the sun on my skin again, not meant to have spent more time with Legolas and my sons than was my share. The heart which had once loved so freely, ceased to beat and then restarted again would have to be ended for good. And I would have to do it. I couldn't ask anyone else to undertake the task. Just like Frodo and the Ring it had fallen to me and me alone. I swallowed almost convulsively, unaware that Legolas was watching me closely, his eyes registering shock and horror as he easily read the thoughts on my face. "No, meleth-nin!" he cried out, his hands flying onto my shoulders and clinging there. "No!" he cried again, shaking me slightly. "Please, you cannot!" he implored me, his tears cascading freely down his cheeks. I raised my eyes to meet his desperate gaze, sniffing wildly as my own tears began to flow. My voice was thick when I addressed him next, "But you love Osellë…" I whispered, my voice sounding broken even to me. "Yes." He whispered, his tone still frantic, "Yes, I do, but as a sister! I love the daughter she and I had and I love our sons, but it's not the same way as I love you!" I sat there, new tears making fresh tracks down both our faces, but I was held in suspense, waiting as a statue for what would come next. For me it was a matter of life and death. "From the first time I met you, I loved you. Even when I thought you were a boy, I saved you from a thundering Oliphaunt, did I not?" At the slight, hiccupy laughter from me he continued, his own voice heavy with emotion. "Every day since I first saw your face, were you alive or dead, I have started every morning thinking about you and you have been the last thing I thought about before going to sleep. Every sunset I have wanted to share my day with you and have you be the one I took into my arms and kissed. You are the stars in my night and the sun in my sky. Without you my world has always fallen into darkness. I pray you, don't leave me now. I beg you, stay with me." He finished, his voice soft and shaking. I sucked in a deep breath. Of all the things I had been expecting, that had been the last. And at last, at last, I knew what I wanted, what was meant to be. Us. Legolas and Vénea. We were eternal, we were forever and I knew now that in life or death I would never stop loving him.

_He would have loved me anyway_, I thought and that ended everything. No longer did I have to worry about suicide or about how I was going to live out the rest of my days. My place was with him. Wherever he went I would go, wherever he went I belonged, because we were soulmates. And that was our destiny.

When we arrived in Mirkwood my eyes were still red and puffy from crying. Legolas of course, being an elf, never had that problem, so it was with dismayed amusement that he viewed me as I stepped out the darkened interior and into the harsh daylight. We had spent the remainder of our journey in the dark in companionable silence, the kind that only comes when two people share a very close bond. I for one had fervently wanted to stay within that coach and never leave the comfort and safety I had found there in the arms of Legolas, but I knew deep down that it could not last. And after Legolas had disembarked, I was forced to follow, had I not just decided that our destiny was always to be together? What kind of start would it be if Legolas lived in the Palace of Mirkwood and I in a coach for the rest of our life together? After the first step I found that it was not so bad. Legolas still grasped my hand in a death-grip almost as if he feared if he loosed it I would run away again, or worse, attempt to kill myself. I shuddered slightly at the thought. No fear of that, I decided quickly, my ideas on that front had been firmly put to rest. We walked up the white marble steps together, almost in step, I feeling like I was a Shetland pony who had just been put in the show ring with a herd of Thoroughbreds. I ignored my feeling of unease as we climbed higher, finally reaching the great doorway at the top. The whole place was eerily quiet and I stole a chance during Legolas' moment of distraction as he called for a guard to open the gate, to dab carefully at my eyes in a vain attempt to make them seem a little less red. The elves here had always been thoroughly amazed by my tendency to blush beetroot red and I flinched at the thought of what a field day some of them might have with my scarlet ringed eyes. My ministrations did not go unnoticed by Legolas and he raised one eyebrow slightly, sending me a look of pure amusement. I stuck my tongue out at him in retribution and he smiled hugely in return, it was then I knew that he had missed times like these as much as I had. His amused expression however soon faded back into the one he had been wearing before and now I recognised it for what it was. Concern. Legolas looked up the gateway and I got a second shock as I realised why he was looking so concerned. There were no guards on the door and none had come at his call. I felt my own expression mould into a frown. This was most unusual. During my time as Princess here I had come to know many of the Palace guards and all of them were fiercely loyal to their Prince. I could think of nothing that would keep them away from their posts if he called, except… Except if they were dead. I suppressed a shudder at the thought. Legolas couldn't have been gone that long. What could have happened since he left here? What could have gone so terribly wrong? Legolas was still stood there, staring fiercely at the gate as if he thought he could force them to open by the sheer power of his gaze. I broke his stare-out with the doorway by taking his hand and tugging slightly on it. When he turned face me, I spoke, "It would seem we have little choice, meleth-nin," I said quietly, as if hostile forces might overhear, "We will have to climb the wall." Legolas' gaze hardened and he gave a curt nod signalling his approval without a sound. It would appear that he too believed someone unfriendly might overhear. On reflex I glanced behind me but the woods remained ominously dark and frighteningly still. For the first time the sight of them scared me. I had never felt anything but at ease in these woods before. Together we tackled the wall, Legolas often climbing on ahead to find the easiest foot and handholds before coming back down and helping me find them. Eventually, I reached the crest of the wall looming, as it did, like a wave over the forest below. Legolas was already there, waiting perched on top of the wall just at the point where it became precariously thin. I scowled at him, but he easily read the truth in my eyes, my fear for him, that the scowl hid. He gave me an apologetic smile and moved further along the wall until he came up next to me on the widest part of it. "I forgot how you cannot stand me doing things like that, meleth-nin," he said softly, by way of an apology, "It is good to be with you so you can remind me of these pet hates of yours again." He whispered, and I could read the truth and honesty in his gaze, "I forgot how much I had missed it," he whispered again, his voice even softer this time and then our lips brushed and all other words or smart retorts went clean out of both our heads. When we broke apart Legolas was grinning. "Now that," he said, "was something I have really missed!" I rolled my eyes and shook my head at him, thinking, _Just like a man_! And trying to ignore the thought of how much I had missed it as well.

It took us another half an hour before I was finally stood in the courtyard, my feet back on solid earth once more. I heaved a sigh of relief, trying to keep my face nonchalant and cool even though inside I felt like weeping for joy and kissing the earth I now stood upon. I cast a sideways glance to see if Legolas had yet noticed, but his mind was elsewhere. His keen Elven eyes were already scouring the immediate area for danger and his tense body only relaxed when he had checked every possible nook and cranny that an enemy could be hiding in. I began to feel a little ashamed. Had there been an enemy in the courtyard and had Legolas not been with me I would probably have been picked off quite easily while I rejoiced in simply being back on firm land again without having to cling on for dear life. Legolas quickly came over and rested a hand on my shoulder, "Venea," he said and I sighed slightly, sure that this was about to be a reprimand to be more careful about checking I was safe in future. I knew he only did it because he worried about me, but it still made me feel very young and almost like he was babying me. In short, it was a feeling I did not enjoy. I braced myself for the imminent tirade and so I was shocked when all he said was, "I am very glad that I am the warrior here. I would hate to see you lose your innocence." He did not even say it intensely; it was almost a passing comment except that I could see the deep and resonating truth of his statement in his clear blue eyes. I was struck dumb, at any other time I might have been slightly offended that he thought me innocent, but this time I was just glad that I was. Innocent, I mean. It had just dawned on me what it would be like if I something was to happen that changed the way I saw the world. And I suddenly appreciated everything Legolas had done to stop that from happening. My thoughts on the subject were short-lived however as we saw the sight that we had missed at the gate. Guards came running from everywhere, some scaling down walls as Legolas and I had just moments before, some appearing suddenly from doorways. But there were two vital and startling differences. One, these guards were not running to open the gate, but to arrest us and, two, these were not Mirkwoodian guards. I did not recognise their dress, but it did not bear the insignia of Mirkwood and I felt Legolas stiffen at my side, pushing me slightly behind him as they drew nearer. "Legolas of Mirkwood," one of the soldiers spoke, his voice undeniably Elven, yet not. Almost like a very good replica, but there was just something wrong with it. Something not quite right. "We have orders to bring you and your companion to the Great Hall." He continued, his strange voice rasping over some of the words. I felt rough arms grasping at me from behind, I struggled but they only gripped tighter and I was wrenched backwards, away from Legolas before I even had chance to scream. He was turning in a moment, his muscles bunching, preparing to spring. A hand on his arm stopped him. It was the soldier from before, "I wouldn't do that if I was you," he warned. Legolas shook him off, "And why not?" he questioned sharply. "Because," the soldier elaborated, a sick look on his face as if he was enjoying this torture, "we also have orders to hurt the girl if you try anything." Legolas' face crumpled and his head bowed. The soldier gave a smile of triumph. He knew he would have no trouble now. I felt sick to the stomach with loathing and disgust. I was being used as a weapon against the one person who I loved most. When I found out who was doing this, who could play us off our emotions so well… I scowled. When I found them they were going to pay.

I was blindfolded quickly. Apparently whoever was running this sham of a kidnapping didn't want to be recognised. A wise idea, I had to admit, because if I ever found out who it was they were going to rue the day they ever tried to hurt my husband. I was dragged none-too-gently down a darkened corridor, at least I presumed it was darkened but that could just have been the fact that I was blindfolded. Anyway, I was dragged through a labyrinth of corridors and I could hear shuffles behind me that sounded as if they were dragging Legolas the same way too. Well, more fool them, I thought, if either one of us gets free there will be hell to pay. That was how mad I was right at that moment. And that was before we turned into the next corridor. I felt a sudden rush of breeze and knew that that meant we had turned a corner and were now near a window. To me, that wasn't very much help, the Palace of Mirkwood was riddled with windows and corners, but Legolas had lived here all his life. And he now knew exactly where he was. I heard a sudden noise from behind me, there had always been shuffling but now it sounded urgent and accompanied by the occasional laboured grunt, none of which were Legolas'. But I recognised those noises, they were indicative of a fight, and by the sound of it Legolas was winning. The surge of triumph and adrenaline I felt overpowered my feeling of confusion. Legolas had no reason to suddenly start struggling, the only times he had ever started something like that before was when whoever had me had started hitting me, or otherwise mishandling me, but this time I was fine. And it couldn't be because we were headed for the dungeon, or anywhere else with torture implements because they were underground and I could still feel a breeze. That meant we weren't underground. So if it wasn't because we were near the dungeons and it wasn't because I was getting hurt… The real reason hit me suddenly, though I wished seconds later it had not. He would only struggle if someone he loved was getting hurt and since I was fine and Osellë and his daughter were out of the castle, that left only two other people who could affect him this way. Keldarion and Estel, our children. Within seconds I was struggling too, kicking out with my feet, writhing and snapping my teeth at anything within range, desperately trying to get my captor to lose his grip, even for a instant, so I could wriggle free. There was a great deal of cursing from behind me, some so explicit I do not care to repeat it, even in passing. In polite terms it was something about a lot of faeces, a female dog and sexual reproduction, but I won't go into that. Suffice it to say, had I not been blindfolded, I am certain to this day that I would have seen the air turn a bright and vivid blue. I felt a great rush of air from behind me and a solid thwack as a fist rammed home. The cursing abruptly stopped, the arms restraining me went limp and I broke free. I tugged the blindfold gratefully away from my eyes and looked up to see Legolas standing triumphantly over the unconscious body of a rather burly elf, "Never say that in front of a lady again," he muttered to the elf, even knowing that he was beyond hearing and then looked up and grinned at me. I smiled back, an expression of pure relief flooding my features. But we didn't stay like that for long before the adrenaline kicked back in with force, "The children!" I exclaimed and Legolas gave an explicit curse of his own. Racing past he pulled me swiftly to my feet and fastened his hand around my upper arm, effectively dragging me along after him as he fled through the corridors. We came to a dead stop outside a simple enough wooden door. We both just stood there, panting, afraid of opening the door because of what we might find behind it. I made the first move, stepping forward I placed one hand on the cool smooth wood and slid the other down onto the handle. The metal felt icy cold beneath my fingers and I sucked in a deep, calming breath, not that it did me any good. Closing my eyes for a brief second I twisted the doorknob suddenly and sharply, yanking the door so hard and fast I almost fell into the room. The empty room. The windows were thrown wide open and the curtains billowed into the empty space, a broken pot on the floor gave evidence of a struggle. I heard Legolas step into the room beside me and I heard his sigh. Both of our children were gone.

I stormed into the Great Hall, my entrance unescorted by anyone, and advanced purposefully towards the throne at the opposite end of it. There was a stunned silence in the Hall as if its occupants were amazed by my apparent, and very blatant, death wish. I had to admit that I myself was quaking with fear, a minuscule shaking that had begun with my hands and was now spreading like wildfire throughout my entire body. I tried to force it down, to let my rage rise up and consume me, but it could not be quelled. By the time I stood directly before the throne the only steady thing about me was my gaze. There was a she-elf on there, an elf I did not recognise but there was something about her that seemed familiar, like a deadly herb that you remember from a long ago lesson. "Where are my children?" I questioned, hoping my voice would sound as forceful as I had intended. There was no immediate response but I kept my gaze steady, glad that, even if it had not been as threatening as I hoped, my voice had at least remained unwavering. A muffled thump answered my question where the she-elf had not. I craned my neck slightly, looking to see what had been the cause of the bang, my heart leaping into my throat as I did so. What I saw made me see red. Three figures were lying, bound, behind the throne of that unworthy creature and even in the shadow that the mighty chair cast I could recognise them instantly, for all three were very dear to me. Keldarion and Estel lay unconscious, their fair hair matted with blood and their hands swollen from a struggle. The third figure was awake, her eyes burning with unchecked fury and she was bashing her feet against the foundations of the throne, the black hair concealing the blood that I knew must matt it as it ran down her right temple. Fury rose up in me sharply, white-hot and primal in its intensity. I knew then that I was feeling the rage that every mother whose child had been attacked had felt, every protector whose charges had been hurt, and every woman who had had someone she loved in any way harmed had experienced and this time I let it consume me. The elf on the chair spoke, a low, guttural sound that seemed to grate against my ears, "So, you are the mortal wife of an Elven Prince." She intoned, her words dull and lifeless as if she had no will or spirit behind them. "You don't seem worth my trouble. I am Lindewen, by the way." I saw movement behind me, the guards I had surprised with my entrance had regrouped, I could see them amassing behind me, hear the metallic snarl as swords were slid from their sheaths, "A nice enough name. Shame you have not the character to go with it," I hissed at her, rage funnelling into my tone. The elf on the throne continued as if I had not spoken, her words still colourless and vague, "My mother was so obsessed with you, I had thought you would be at least a worthy opponent. But no matter, I will kill you anyway and so steal the life you have in payment for the one you took from my mother!" With her last sentence she came alive, her eyes burning within her skull, her hair slicing the air around her head like a barbed whip. Her fury was good, it was raw emotion, it was what would make killing her so much easier when my chance came. The guards behind me were creeping closer, I could hear the swish of their clothing as their stances changed from wary to ready for battle. I tensed, every muscle in my body as taut as the string of a bow when the arrow is about to be released. She dived forward and in a blur of motion I was moving, leashed tension streaming out of me, fuelled by the protective rage of a mother. I stepped backward and reached my arm back, striking as quick as a snake to break the neck of one of the waiting guards. He fell lifeless and I wasted no time in snatching the sword from his failing fingers. He would have no more use for it now. "Draw back!" came a barked command; the words sharp and clean cut. It would seem the she-elf did have a bit of mettle after all, I thought with grim amusement, a one on one battle would be interesting. Light danced in her eyes and amusement shone there with no regret or fear to taint it. She would lose this fight, I realised with a small shock, purely because she had no reason to win it. Whoever her mother had been, she was already dead and the dead are not motivation enough when your opponent has living children to fight for. As far as I was concerned the she-elf circling me was already dead and I just had to find the quickest way of proving that to everyone else in the room. But it did not turn out to be as easy as I had first expected. She span suddenly, dropping her sword and pulling two small and deadly daggers from within the folds of her cloak. The broadsword suddenly grew heavy in my hands; my weapon was too heavy and slow to defend against weapons such as those that were made for swiftness. I changed my grip on the sword, bringing the point up to grasp it in my free hand just as the elf made a swing for my leg. The sword became a barrier and the dagger bounced harmlessly off the tough steel, missing my leg by inches. We whirled away from each other, the bloodlust in her eyes tempered slightly now by respect. "Do you even know who my mother was?" she asked me, I had a feeling more to distract me from our duel than to hear my answer. I made my response short, "No. And I do not care." I barked as she dived forward again swinging both daggers in an attempt to slash my eyes. I did a quick series of blocks, my arms aching with every clash of steel to steel. "She always wanted to be a member of the courts here At least, she used to, before you drove her to madness! Mamë was her name, although I don't suppose you'd remember her." A feral glint in her eye as she spoke reminded me, with a new level of reality, that I was fighting a very dangerous elf. But the daughter of Mamë! Far from being an elf I wouldn't remember, she was an elf I couldn't forget, and I had tried! She was the elf that had driven me to premature labour and so my death. She must have seen the horror in my eyes for when she spoke next her voice was laced with sick amusement. "It would seem I was wrong. By the look of you, you remember her very well. Did she torture you? She promised me that she would, that she would make you scream and beg for mercy before the end. Did she break you Vénea? Did she make you cry out for your Naneth as you plotted to kill mine?" She was practically screaming it into my face and I was blocking her frenzied attacks on impulse, my mind locked in the terror of my experience at her hands all those years ago. Memories I had thought long dead were swarming around me and I blinked back tears. Swinging my sword in a desperate arc I parried her blow and knocked her on the side of the head, enough to stun her. She fell to her knees at my feet, presenting the perfect target to strike at. But I stumbled backwards, away from my fallen enemy, too heartsick and repulsed to deal the final blow then. I fell to my knees beside the captives, my comrades and began slicing ineffectually at their bonds, my vision too clouded with tears to really see what I was doing. A soft touch on the side of my head stopped me and I looked up. Keldarion was lying on the floor, his beautiful golden hair in total disarray, but his blue eyes were open and totally clear. "Nana, saes…" he whispered, his words distorted by the gag forced into his mouth but still discernible. I leaned forward, my heart twisting violently, here he was, my injured son, trying to comfort his perfectly healthy mother! I felt a flare of guilt and love so fierce that with seconds my vision was cleared and I made short work of cutting the bonds of all three captives and gathering my two sons into my arms. I held onto them tightly, never wanting to release my grip and I felt than hold me back, "I will never leave you again, never," I whispered frantically, trying to communicate it to the deepest part of them, but I received no verbal response. They only held onto me tighter and I loved them all the more for it. The moment was broken by a persistent tapping on my arm. After the action had gone on long enough to begin to get on my nerves I disengaged my arms from my two sons and turned to face the culprit. It was Aswen, her expression troubled and her eyes focused elsewhere. I repressed a sigh, partly of relief and partly of annoyance: I was back in Mirkwood for barely one hour and already Aswen was proving that absolutely nothing had changed between us. "What is it…" I began but was cut off as I caught sight of what Aswen was staring at. The she-elf of before was racing towards us, or more specifically towards me, holding one dagger high above her head, the other already flying towards us. Every instinct inside me was screaming at me to run, to throw myself out of the path of the dagger. But if I was to move, who would the dagger hit but my children? I couldn't move and so kill my sons in the process of saving my own hide. I resolved to stay put and closed my eyes, waiting for the sharp sting of steel that, no matter how many times I have been prepared to feel, I have never felt ready for. I felt a rush of air as the knife, and elf close behind, bore down upon me and threw up my hands even knowing that I was going to die anyway. I waited for the silence of the Halls of Mandos, feeling a deep and aching regret in the pit of my stomach that I was going to lose everything and every one again. The sound I actually heard was quite different. There was a kind of gurgle and the metallic click of blades hitting the floor. I braced myself and opened one eye. There was Legolas gliding down from a window in the roof, his blue eyes deadly, an empty bow in his hand. The daughter of Mamë lay still near my feet, her eyes wide and sightless, an arrow neatly protruding from her chest. I gave a disbelieving blink and shook my head slightly. Behind me I felt my sons stir and rise and numbly allowed both them and Aswen to tug me to my feet. Feeling decidedly ungraceful I lurched forward, stumbling into a nearby pillar and clinging on for support. Another near death experience had thrown me. It was very unfair of the Powers That Be not even to give me chance to settle in before launching me head first into another life and death situation. I aimed a mock glare at the Havens to the West and tried to steady my breathing. I felt that I had just about got it under control, when something totally unexpected happened, something that had me on my knees as quick as morning sickness. Osellë was with Legolas, she was gliding down the pillar after him with that Elven grace I had envied so much all those years ago. My breath caught and hitched tightly in my throat. What on Middle Earth…? I blinked furiously and looked down at the ground, trying to clear my head. This was all way too much for me, Legolas had just professed true and undying love for me but here he was with my immortal and immeasurably more beautiful rival. Why was nothing in my life ever simple? I put one hand up to shield my face for multiple reasons, rubbing tiredly at my aching eyes. This had already been one very long day, and the way things were going it didn't look like it was going to be over anytime soon. The elves, who had originally been startled by the arrival of so many new adversaries, had recovered from their initial shock and were now advancing once more, evil smiles adorning their guileless faces. These creatures looked as if they felt no remorse for their previous action and a new kind of burning started inside me. Oh, they may not feel remorse for their actions, not now' not ever, but I was sure as heck going to make these Valar-forsaken creatures regret them. I felt a new presence beside me and I recognised it instantly as Legolas. One slender hand rested itself on my shoulder and I grinned inwardly. He was so wonderfully predictable, I may look all right, but this was one elf that was not so easily convinced. He had resorted of late to having to actually be able to physically touch me to fully persuade himself that I was not dead. I would have been mildly put out by the coddling if I had not so thoroughly deserved it. After all, I had disappeared from the poor elf's sight not once, but twice and smothered as I felt I really could assign no blame to his actions. Osellë appeared in my line of sight and I sucked in a sharp breath. Damn and drat it all to the seven hells! This she-elf was going to drive me insane! I did not hate Osellë I never could or would, she was too much of a sister to me but, and may the Valar have mercy on me, I was about ready to kill her at that very moment.

"Call yourselves elves?" I called out bitterly, forcing myself to ignore Osellë for the moment and focus on more pressing matters. The elves Lindewen had brought with her looked up, startled, at my words. "You're no elves. You're not even a match for me, one puny little human you couldn't control." I sneered, putting more venom into my words than I really felt. I was too tired, too heartsick and too sore to really hate these elves, if they even were elves, but I did try to aggravate them if it would help to speed up the upcoming fight. Legolas coined on to what I was doing first and joined in, "I don't even know if I should bother using my best blades on them." He muttered, loud enough for them to hear, but quiet enough that it could seem as if he was talking to himself. I could see their eyes burn in anger. Aswen had been tying her bootlaces quietly in the corner, seeming to take no notice, and not even bothering to look up as Legolas and I rained insults on the advancing elves. I was just beginning to become deeply afraid that Aswen had taken more hurt than I could see when she straightened suddenly. With brisk, purposeful steps she strode out towards the elves, coming to a stop a pace before where Legolas and I stood. She still did not say a word only reached her arms forwards, stretching the muscles, like a cat before it pounces. "Right," she said softly, her tone itself more deadly than a thousand threats. "Who's next?" The elves seemed to come to some simultaneous agreement and without even looking around all took one step backwards. I grinned. Ah, yes, that was the Aswen I knew and loved. I watched as the grin on my face slowly transferred to Aswen's. Turning around she looked me in the eye and took a slight step to one side, beckoning me forwards. "Shall we?" As if I needed any further prompting! Without another word the two of us launched forward, blades outstretched, or rather in Aswen's case it was hands outstretched as she still had been given no weapon. Legolas and Osellë sprang into action directly behind us, followed closely by Keldarion, Estel, and various Mirkwood guards that I vaguely recognised as having seen before, though where they had come from was a complete puzzle to me. I did not waste unnecessary time pondering on it though as the first elf came within reach of my blade. There would be time to drag the truth from people later. The foreign elves were just as skilled with a blade as their native counterparts, much to my chagrin and increasing exhaustion. It is a well-known fact that even the weakest of Elves can outlast any human, except maybe Aragorn in his younger days, in terms of endurance, and I was rapidly finding that this was something I would rather not have been testing at that very moment in time. Each thrust and parry sent a fresh wave of fatigue and pain shimmering down my arms and each bruise hurt afresh in the aftermath of it. The elf facing me could sense the growing weakness behind my blows and he was becoming more and more confident, changing tactics from trying to injure me to going for head and neck strikes aimed to kill. Drat and blast! I looked around in what I hoped was a furtive manner searching for Legolas. I uttered a further curse when I saw him, not three metres away, but absolutely surrounded by a veritable forest of elves, spears and lances, some trying to reach him and injure him some trying to push those other spears away. Even if he was to try and reach me there was no way he would be able to get there in time. I gave a soft sigh as I realised I was alone in this fight. If there was to be any aid for me, I was going to have to take action and get it. The elf made a particularly vicious head strike and I only just blocked it, wincing as I felt the jarring contact travel all the way along my arm. A sudden idea struck me, and I went with it, after all it was my only idea at present. I began to hold my left arm awkwardly, dangling it down by my side, leaving it to hang ineffectually, still clutching weakly at the broadsword. I saw the flicker of triumph in the elf's eyes, I saw him change his strike from one intended to break the bones in my legs to another brutal head strike, a knockout to end the battle. I shifted the broadsword in my hand slightly, making out I was afraid to use it against him, afraid of the painful contact. This was it. If he realised now what I was doing I wouldn't have a chance. He didn't realise, he went for the block and I stepped back at the last possible second, the tip of his weapon just skimming my nose. I flung my arm out, giving up all pretence of it being injured and hurled my sword at the far wall. The elf I was facing looked taken aback as I effectively disarmed myself and dropped into a fighting crouch. I saw a whole host of emotions flicker over his face, ranging from confusion to suspicion to triumph. He settled on the latter. Transferring his hold on the sword to an almost casual grip he glared down at me, looking sickeningly self-confident. "Quite the crazy little mortal, aren't you?" he asked me, his tone condescending. Bringing up his sword in a motion too fast for my eyes to follow his blade was pressed against my throat, constricting my airways. Determined that I would not die having let this elf have the final word, I sucked in what I hoped was not to be my last breath and replied darkly, "You're the crazy one, for thinking you'll get away with this." Looking up I couldn't resist adding, for the sheer devilment of it, "Makes no difference to you anyway. From the moment you put that blade to my throat you've been a dead-man." The elf grinned down at me, only a slight worry tempering his gaze, "I am no 'man'." He sneered, but whatever the rest of his sentence would have been will never be known because seconds later he was staring down at my blade through his chest and the glaring, jet-black haired she-elf who wielded it. I amended my previous statement to the corpse as it slumped to the floor when Aswen pulled out my blade, "Dead elf, then. Aswen doesn't like people who discriminate."

* * *

Vénea's blade lodged, quivering, in the wall a mere two inches above Aswen's head. She gazed up at it in mild shock, had she not heard the whistle of steel through air and had the presence of mind to duck, that would have been her neck impaled there. Dispatching the enemy elf nearest her with a quick blow to the back she pulled the sword out of the masonry with relative ease. By the trajectory it had been travelling at when it hit the wall Aswen estimated the angle it must have been thrown from and sighted along it using the blade while quickly putting an end to a foolish elf's attempt to attack her from behind. When she realised who must have thrown the sword her already dark expression turned murderous. Vénea. Turning quickly Aswen made short work of the elves that attempted to stand in her way and within no time at all she was standing over the dead body of the elf who had threatened her friend. After hearing Vénea's comment, Aswen couldn't resist adding one of her own, "Nor do I approve of friends who throw blades at me while I'm not looking. Unless there is something you haven't been telling me Vénea…" The inflection of her words coupled with the glare on her face was enough to restrain Vénea from further comment, at least for the moment, so Aswen was left in relative peace to try and save both of their necks form the ever increasing press of unfriendly elves around them. Aswen was no defeatist, but even she had to admit that the odds were not looking good for any of them to get out alive.

* * *

The next half-hour frustrated me almost to death. Aswen would not leave me in peace, constantly buzzing around me like a mother hen protecting her young. It was not the coddling that bothered me so much as the fact that I could not get a clear shot at the elves surrounding Legolas. There was always someone in the way, either Aswen with her blade deflecting the arrows and blade thrust intended for herself or me or one of the few elves who managed to slip past her defences and try to kill me close-up. I had little to worry about. Aswen's fussing might annoy me, but she was damn handy with a sword. What bothered me more was the fact that I was not the only one with a handy helper in orbit. Osellë was smothering Legolas, even at this distance I could see how close she was pressed against him and the waves of jealousy I felt were almost enough to drown me. I, however, was far too compressed and surrounded by a ring of angry, bloodthirsty elves to even attempt a rescue mission so I settled for glowering at her turned back miserably. If Aswen noticed my forlorn expression she did not comment on it and in retrospect it was quite possible that she was entirely too distracted by elves and the prospect of imminent death to be able to really pay it much mind. I took being overlooked like this in my stride and went on with aiming my miserable glares at Osellë whenever I could spare them from the attacking elves. Another half an hour passed in this fashion, the strikes and parries becoming almost an ingrained dance, push, clash, whirl. Parry, dodge, strike. My brain was almost switched off from the conflict, running on a kind of built-up autopilot from too many years of battle. This loss in concentration was almost the end of me. I was focused, if you could call my weary battle haze that, on the elf in front of me keeping up with his blows and launching very little counter-offensive of my own when I felt a strange rush of air from behind me. In near-death circumstances, which I have had more than my share of to date, even the swiftest of movement can seem to take an age. Swords move like snails and your own heartbeat down to a methodical thud even when it is racing. I turned in this strange slow-fast state to see an elf grinning, his smile widening in slow motion as he brought his blade down towards my unprotected back. Aswen was not looking my way, I doubted that she could even see me much anymore with all the elves that pressed around us, and there was little chance her head would turn my way with time enough to take action to prevent the blow. My head snapped back and the sword was coming down, the wind I had felt before this elf's cruel breath down my neck as he prepared to deal the final blow. I closed my eyes, finding the blackness of my closed lids a preferable sight to what I was sure would be my own blood and felt… nothing. I waited a little while longer before I dared to peep out. The elf before me was doubled over, his eyes glazed with pain, but seeing nothing. As I watched in stunned silence he silently keeled over to thud onto the floor, throwing up a crater of gore. Belatedly I stared at the body and realised the cause of death. One arrow protruded from the creature's… nether regions… explaining why it had been doubled over, while another was stuck out of the creature's chest, finished off by an arrow directly between the eyes. I blinked, still staring down stupidly. A slight noise to my left startled me and I looked up to see Aswen approaching me. Reaching down carefully she offered her arm and I took it, using it as a much-needed support to lever myself back onto my feet. She grinned at me and that one expression told me that she had been responsible for the most…southerly arrow. She shrugged in response to my disbelieving glare and nodded her head in a different direction. I followed her nod to see both Legolas and Osellë staring my way. I cocked my head at them in my best imitation of a silent question, and Legolas responded crossing his fingers over his heart in a shape that resembled a target. I raised an eyebrow. This was shaping up to be quite interesting; I took his sign language to mean that he had shot the arrow piercing the creature in the heart. I looked next to Osellë but she would not meet my eyes and turned her head away, deliberately turning to face the oncoming adversaries and blocking me out. Ah ha. So she had shot the third arrow then and was refusing to admit it. I shook my head slightly, half amused, half irritated. Stubborn elf. I took a step forwards intending to place myself nearer to my husband before the fighting restarted in earnest but the second I moved ten new elves seemed to pour down on me, diverting my attention somewhat. I growled my annoyance, these things seemed sent deliberately to try me. First they put Legolas and me in a life or death situation, but then they had to drag my sons and my two best friends along for the ride? If this was the Valar's idea of destiny or, heaven forbid, humour, then it was fundamentally flawed. I saw Osellë dive towards Legolas, suddenly bringing her sword up in a desperate clash of metal against metal, her split second timing saving Legolas from having a sword complete with angry elf in his back. I scowled, all my previous animosity, despite the brief revelation of moments before, coming back. _Damn it,_ I thought, knowing full well Osellë could not hear me, _that's my job!_

* * *

Legolas' arms hurt. A constant blur of swirling motion was all that could be seen of him on the battlefield, but keeping up that level of physical exertion was putting a lot of strain on his muscles. And just at the moment, those muscles were in his arms. Osellë flitted around him constantly, flickering in and out of his peripheral vision. He kept a quarter of an eye on her, it was all he could spare, with another quarter on Vénea and half on the elves he fought. Vénea seemed to be holding her own well; or rather Aswen seemed to be doing a good job of letting Vénea think she was holding her own well. Legolas sighed, it should have been him over there. He was her husband, it was his place to keep Vénea safe, not Aswen's. He would have run a tired hand through his tangled hair if he could have spared it from his blades. He was wearying, barely perceptible as it was and though he was still a better fighter than half the elves in this hall, even critically exhausted, he felt unpleasantly drained. He wanted this fight over and if it couldn't be over soon then he at least wanted Vénea within range so he could protect her. His sons, as Legolas had taken pains to ensure, had already been escorted off the battlefield, despite their arguments to the contrary, to be healed. He had ordered them to take Aswen as well, but as the healers they had returned with more bruises than was healthy and seeing as how Aswen was doing such a good job of protecting Vénea, it was almost a good thing that they had failed. As he watched Aswen stepped closer to her mortal friend and sent an elf that had been sneaking up on her from behind sprawling with a slit jugular, he couldn't repress the childish sense of jealousy that spiked through him. _Damn it, that was his job!_

* * *

Osellë kept her mind ruthlessly focused on the battle before her. The blows of her sword were not so much a dance as a well-learned lesson. There needed to be order in the world, order instead of all this chaos! Osellë's own feelings were spiralling dangerously out of control. She was normally so composed, so still that she looked sometimes not born but sculpted. A figure carved out of stone. And perhaps that would have been easier. Flesh could bleed, flesh could be torn. A heart that had been born could break. But a heart of stone? If her heart were a rock then Osellë would not be feeling the huge throbbing rift inside her that she did now. She imagined the tear that slipped down her cheek was crystal, falling and shattering on the floor into a thousand glittering shards. A heart of stone might not break, but it could be smashed. It was left to Osellë to hope that that would not happen to her.

_We turn the wheel and break the chain  
Put steel to steel and laugh at pain  
We're dreamers in castles made of sand  
The road to Eden's overgrown  
Don't you sometimes wish  
Your heart was a heart of stone?_

_**Anastacia – Heart of Stone**_

* * *

My head was ringing. A thousand thoughts poured into my head, a thousand different endings to this saga. Unfortunately, I could not come up with a happy one. Legolas was a mere pace away from me now and some distant part of me was relieved. The more immediate part was more concerned that all the surviving elves on our side were now cornered. Trapped. I forced the word 'dead' out of my mind. Nothing was certain. I had cheated death too many times to give in now. Besides if I was to die I wanted to die looking at him. A peculiar irony hit me with that thought. To die looking at the person who had saved me from death so many times. The person who had actually brought me back from death. Though not, I must admit, directly. Oh Valar, I love him. I love him now, I will love him always. I swore, some two hundred years ago, that I would and I have never stopped. My fingers found his and I held on tight. Death would not separate us. I gave a mental shrug. After all, it never had before. His fingers tightened their grip on mine until it was an almost painful embrace as one of the elves surrounding us approached. His gait was slow, his manner triumphant. He was far too cocky. "Yield," he said and I recognised his voice from before. This was the elf that had threatened Legolas and I in the courtyard. I felt it was safe to assume that he had been a ringleader in this plot. He glared slightly as his previous one-word threat garnered no immediate response. "Yield or die!" He tried again. I suppressed a yawn, raising the back of my hand to cover my mouth. Hey, I may not like the guy, I may even want to kill him but it had occurred to me that it was not the best idea to annoy a very angry elf with a large pointy blade while I was still unarmed. Contrary to the apparent beliefs of Legolas, Osellë and Aswen I was not completely without a sense of self-preservation. Legolas seemed to have decided the time had come to put this elf out of his misery. Turning to face him he looked up, shielding his hand slightly from the shaft of light that cut through the dust that shone in the air of the main hall. His kept his reply simple and very calm, "I think not." The elf looked at him, expressions of frustration, anger and fear vying for dominance on his face. Frustration won. "And why," he continued, with a valiant attempt to keep his tone level, "would you think that?" Legolas looked up at him incredulously. "Do you take me for a fool? I have not ruled this Kingdom unquestioned for more than two hundred years without ever having a back-up plan. As we speak Aragorn is riding out of Gondor, armed to the teeth if I know him as well as I think I do, and he is heading straight for… have you guessed it? Mirkwood. Aragorn will not suffer my realm to be held by the scourge of Middle-Earth and, whether I live or die, he will see my Kingdom delivered from your hands." The elf facing him looked down, letting lose a vivid curse. Legolas decided the time was right to add another finishing sentence. "But let it be known, if there are anymore casualties here Aragorn will not settle for merely driving you out of Mirkwood. He will hunt you down, every last one of you. There is nowhere that will be safe for you to hide. But if you leave now… I may be able to convince him to be lenient even if only for the fact that you spared my life. Maybe he will settle for only killing half of you." He gave a careless shrug. "Who can say? His temper is widely known to be unpredictable." The elf facing him gave a glare, almost a worthy comparison for Aswen's, and I resisted the urge to flinch back, away from his fierce gaze. "You win, Silvan elf." He snarled, malice dripping from every syllable. "We will leave this place, you have killed our Queen and too many of our brothers. But," he added as a final warning, "you had better watch your back, because when my chance comes I'll be holding a knife to it." With that he turned, screeching something in a hideous tongue that made my ears burn just to hear it. The rest of the elves in the room turned, screeching their own words in reply and, painfully slowly, they began to file out of the room with many a scathing backwards glance. As the last one exited the hall his parting curse still rang around the walls, echoing eerily in the sudden silence. For a couple of seconds nobody moved. Then I turned to Legolas, "You never have a back-up plan." I said, stating a simple fact that I worked out some time ago. Legolas grinned, "No meleth-nin, I don't. But there's no reason to go telling them that now is there? Besides," he added with a shrug, "Aragorn probably is on his way over. The difference is that he is coming for a social visit and is more likely to be armed with Arwen's attempt at cream buns than with weaponry. Though, to be truthful, I don't know which is worse…"

It took us up to a week to put Mirkwood back to rights again. That, however, was more than enough time for me to extract the truth, by whatever methods necessary, about what really happened during that battle. Osellë as it turned out had returned to Mirkwood with her daughter to bid Legolas and myself a final farewell. She had decided the grief was too much and had planned to depart these shores, and our lives, forever. Upon her arrival she had realised something was dreadfully wrong and had gone on a little exploring trip into the dungeons of Mirkwood, where she had found our guards imprisoned. She had released them and together they had found and teamed up with Legolas to mount a rescue mission after my foolhardy foray into the 'lion's den' as it were. But watching her, even as she swept up dried blood from the floor, her eyes never left Legolas meticulously cleaning another corner. She was not ready to leave, that was what my heart told me and though my head screamed at me to let the subject drop and to let the dratted elf sail if that was what she wanted, something inside me could not comply. I shook my head, allowing my thoughts to wander to more trivial matters. Aragorn had arrived earlier in the week, bearing Arwen's cream buns as Legolas had foretold. One brave member of Legolas' guard had sacrificed himself to save us all and volunteered to eat the first bun. Following his subsequent admission to the healing wing it had been unanimously decided that the buns must have soured on the journey and were, unfortunately, unfit for consumption. I made a mental note to send that elf some flowers. Aragorn himself was propped in a corner, being well over two hundred years old he did not look in the prime of his life anymore. The sight of me on his arrival had sent him dangerously close to cardiac arrest so I had tried to carefully avoid coming too close to him after that. Legolas had addressed the problem, promising his best friend that he was not seeing a ghost and the full extent of the matter would be explained in due course, Aragorn had allowed himself to be leant against a wall and was currently alternating between sending me looks of disbelief and jealousy. After all, the way I looked not a day over twenty-six, Aragorn was obviously feeling that time had been unfairly kind. I rolled my eyes and set back to my task. As I picked up stray arrows, checking the tip of each for fractures and storing the perfect in a container for reuse my mind strayed back to the elves that had attacked. After the explanations had been given it had been apparent that my initial instinct that these elves were abnormal had been frighteningly correct. They were the last of the creations of Sauron, a new race that he was breeding to control Middle-Earth after his armies had taken it over. After his death and the fall of Mordor these creatures had looked enough like elves to escape detection and had wandered, looking for a new purpose, ever since. It was pure chance that Lindewen had found them and decided that they were a gift from the Valar to avenge her mother. I shivered. Despite sending me back to Middle-Earth the Valar seemed to show a disturbing tendency to try and finish me off again at times. I sighed heavily, dropping wearily to the floor and pulling the container with the arrows in it towards me, hugging it carefully to my knees. Life is so much more complicated than death I thought, not for the first time, I might add. When you're dead there's only really one route you can go along, the road to wherever moving on takes you. I had never really wondered about the afterlife, not even being dead had really made me consider it much more than I had when I was alive, but now… I was beginning to find that I was obsessed with it. Not in a morbid way, there was no way that I wanted to die, but I was starting to realise that I felt I shouldn't be alive. The guilt I had felt when I had come back and ruined Osellë's newfound happiness returned out of the blue. Truly though, what right had I to live when so many others, more deserving of life than I, had died? My time was done, perhaps I had been given a loan, a few borrowed weeks to set my affairs in order, to see my sons fully grown, tell Legolas that I loved him one last time, apologise to Aswen and Osellë. To really say goodbye. But, as I began to realise now, I had had too long. I had been given a gift and I had messed it up, thinking that I had cheated the jaws of death. I could not cheat death anymore than I could stop loving Legolas. I had come back and I had ruined everything all over again! Damn it, why was I always so near-sighted? Doubtless my time had been intended for me to get to know my sons, to give my blessing to Legolas and Osellë. Well, at least I had achieved the former, though it was a small consolation for the emotions of two hearts I had played with. Legolas and Osellë. Would 'sorry' ever be enough to heal the rift that ran between them now? How could I break the news to Legolas that the woman he was in love with all over again was actually not supposed to be alive, and was never supposed to have come back? And Osellë, poor, wretched Osellë, how could she accept that she had been wrested from her happy life by someone who was never supposed to have even been there? I coughed out an angry, tearless sigh. I was too upset, too heartsick and too confused to deal with my own emotions right now. I was destined to be dead and that was that. The huge chasm that opened within me at the thought of giving up everything I had only so recently found would have to be ignored. What did the feelings of a dead woman matter? Now all that remained was to find Legolas and tell him that I was dead. Again.

No matter how many times I have to tell Legolas that I am dead, or he should just leave me to die, as it is the only way, he never takes it well. This was no exception. "No, Venea, no! What put such a thought into your head? Of course you're not supposed to be dead! The Valar sent you back for good, didn't they?" Though his last sentence was a question the inflection in his voice turning it into a statement in the final second. I shook my head sadly, somehow hearing him deny the inevitable makes it that much more heartbreaking to have to crush his hopes. "Legolas, I'm sorry!" I tried again, "But there is no way to deny this! I. Am. Supposed. To be. Dead. If there was any way I could turn this fate around I would, but I cannot! No one can." I softened my tone of voice, my heart shattering within me as I watched a solitary tear track it's way down his face. I reached up a trembling hand to brush it away, ignoring my own tears that blurred my vision and made it harder to keep my voice in check. "If there was any way I could do this without hurting you, I would." He just let out a sob, pressing his face into my hand and bringing up his own hand to cup my cheek. "There is no way you could do this without hurting me! I love you, Vénea. You have to stay." I shook my head and dragged my hands to my own face, pushing his hand away and holding my head. "I cannot!" I moaned in-between sobs. "Not again," he whispered, "The Valar are not cruel, they would not do this to us again. It is torture to send you back on loan only, they could not!" My face twisted with sorrow and I turned away. "But they did." I managed to reply. He gave a shattered moan, the end bitten off as if he was in too much pain to even make a sound. "But I love you," he whispered, as if it was a mantra to keep death at bay, something that not even the Valar could fight. "And I you," I whispered, "But I am dead and have been for two hundred years. Your love should not belong to me anymore." I think it would have been less painful for me to rip my heart out with my bare hands than it was for me to utter that sentence, judging by the pain that lanced through me with every word. If it was death I was looking for that sentence in itself should have killed me.

I had my final goodbyes to say now. I had left Legolas sleeping on what used to be our bed when I was alive, thoroughly wearied by the emotion and tears he had shed. I had not the heart to wake him, even to say my final goodbye, so I left him with a kiss and a note. I was almost relieved. Saying goodbye to the love of my life would have been impossible. I stole out silently, heading down to the healing wing to see my sons. My goodbye with them would be just as heartbreaking for me, but less for them. I had no intention of telling them what was going on. All they would need to know was that I was leaving, and that I loved them. I found them sleeping side by side. It seemed such a shame to wake them, but for my final goodbye I knew that I must. I reached out, one hand on each gently stroking their arms to stir them. Estel was first to move. Sleepily he opened his eyes, smiling blearily up at me as he recognised who I was. On my other side Keldarion also began to awake and I shared my gaze between them, breathing unevenly as I barely held my tears in check. Both sat up simultaneously as they became aware enough to realise that something was seriously wrong. "Naneth, what is it? What is wrong?" questioned Keldarion urgently, followed quickly by Estel, "Is it Adar? What has befallen you?" I shook my head slightly, looking away and giving them a tearful smile. "No, no my dears, your father is fine. The problem lies with me. I…" I stuttered uncertainly, how could I break the news to them, how could I ever leave them again? More importantly, how could they ever forgive me for what I was about to say? "I have to leave," I finished lamely, my control snapping and the tears flowing freely. "I do not want to, but I have no choice." I knew I was giving them too much information, and I could only hope they did not misread my words and mount a search party. "Please believe me when I say that I love you, and that if I had any choice in this I would choose you in a heartbeat. Look after your father for me now; he will need you, and I doubt he will understand." I rose to leave them then before my wavering will could fail me entirely, but a small voice stopped me before I could take a step. "But I don't understand either, Nana," It was Estel. I could feel a pull on my heartstrings so strong that I almost howled out in pain. I turned back slowly to face them and my heart almost broke at the sight. Both their faces were shining with tears, "You can't leave," Keldarion spoke up, "You only just got back." I could look at them no longer; it was too painful, so I turned away, closing my eyes. The lashes squeezed out tears too stubborn to fall and they trailed slowly down my face, leaking into my closed mouth. "I don't understand it either," I whispered, so softly that had they not been elves I don't think that they would have hears me. Turning back with speed fuelled by overwhelming sadness I raced back, pressed a kiss to each of their temples and fled from the room before my heartache could overwhelm me. Once outside I collapsed sobbing against the nearest wall, pounding my fists against it in fury. "Why?" I screamed at it, at the sky, at anything within reach, "Why me?" But the wall had no answers. I sagged against it fearing nothing more than the final moment when I had to leave this place, my home. My goodbyes were said, all except for two. I could not face Aswen, she was as likely to sob over my imminent death as she was to decide to never let the Valar have their way and lock me in a room and never even let me so much as see another dangerous object again. I wrote her a note, as I had with Legolas. That left only one goodbye. Osellë. I dried my eyes roughly with the cuff of my sleeve. It was an old shirt, one of Aragorn's I believe, and it had already been through a lot in its day. Today though, it was stained through with my tears. I found Osellë in the old stables, the last place I would have expected. The building was old, unstable and it was rare anyone came in here unless it was absolutely necessary. I poked my head through the doorway and saw the instant flurry of movement that was Osellë flying to her feet in an attempt to cover up the fact that she had been crying. "I was unaware that anyone came here," she said stiffly. "I apologise, I will leave." I held out a hand to stop her, stepping further inside the stables. "No, please stay. I came here only looking for you." Osellë nodded slightly, looking at me warily clearly wondering what business I had with her now. I decided to begin directly. "I just wanted to say goodbye. I am leaving Mirkwood." Osellë stared at me, "Goodbye?" she repeated in disbelief. "How can you be leaving?" I shrugged my shoulders uncomfortably, I had really not thought through what I was going to tell Osellë. She was less likely to blindly accept my story than anyone else. "It has come to my attention that I am destined to be…" I trailed off, unsure of whether to reveal my true motives to her. Osellë raised an eyebrow in a silent question, "…elsewhere." I finished finally and Osellë looked stunned. "You cheat death to be with Legolas, ruining my life in the process, and then when you finally have him you realise that you have to be 'elsewhere'?" Osellë's voice was rising in pitch and I really couldn't blame her. After all, my reaction was likely to have been incredibly similar. I nodded in reply, my throat too constricted to speak. "Nodding?" she shrieked, "Is that all you can do?" her voice went up an octave higher, pitched at something that was dangerous inside an unstable building like this. "Osellë," I tried to warn her, "this building is unsafe. Maybe we should continue this discussion outside…" Osellë cut me off fiercely, bodily blocking my way. "No, Vénea, I think we should have this little discussion right here." She intoned, her voice deadly. "I've waited too long to say this to be put off now." I sighed and braced myself for the upcoming tirade. "You act like you're Miss High and Mighty, don't you?" cried Osellë. "Well, you're NOT!" The building wobbled dangerously, but Osellë was totally focused on me and though I tried to speak she wouldn't let me get a word in edgeways. "You listen to me now! You stabbed me in the back TWICE, Vénea! TWICE! How can you just stand there and accept that?" The building had had enough. With a groan of timber under incredible pressure it collapsed, burying me instantly under the rubble.

The Valar really don't waste time, I thought belatedly. I've just realised that I ought to be dead, and here I am, dying under a ton of rubble. They're certainly quick off the mark anyway, I thought distantly, you've got to give them that. There it was again, the roaring and that tug of the raging darkness in my mind, that I had become to accustomed to associate with dying. I resisted the urge to fight it, I was due to have been dead for the past few months anyway, I'd had more than enough time already. A voice changed my mind, it wasn't the calm, bell-like voice of the keeper of the Halls of Mandos that I had been expecting, but the panicked voice of someone I knew. Osellë… I was weary and I knew that I was dying, but what harm could a few more minutes do? There were some things I had been hoping to say to her anyway, maybe this would be my chance. I struggled slightly and felt the roaring in my ears fade slightly. I could hear Osellë better now and I strained to answer her cries. "I told you I would be leaving, didn't I?" My words slurred and ran together slightly and I found I was frowning with the effort it took to speak. "Are you hurt?" I managed to force myself to mutter. Osellë bowed her head and I was very surprised to see that she was crying. Maybe she didn't hate me as much as I had thought… "It is nothing more than a sprain." She replied dismissively, but thee was a choked quality to her voice I had never heard before that confused me. Hr next sentence provided something of an explanation. "I am so sorry," she muttered over and over again, sounding close to tears. "I didn't realise, I didn't know! I would never…" I spoke again with extreme effort, "I'm sorry too." I murmured. She looked up at me in surprise, "What for?" she whispered, "You tried to warn me, to get me out of this stupid stable, but I wouldn't listen. I thought it was another of your human tricks. This is all my fault." I winced at the 'tricks' comment, but I deserved it so I let it slide. I was too far-gone to attempt a coherent sentence now and the buzzing was growing stronger. I used one word to convey everything I felt and everything I wanted to apologise for, "Legolas," I slurred unsteadily. Osellë's expression softened and she leant forwards, perhaps she could sense as I could that I was dying and wanted to make up for her harsh words of before. I couldn't have cared less, what she said next was enough to let me die happy, literally. "He is yours now, Vénea. I don't think anything will prise him from you, not after this. Not that I wouldn't like to try, but…" she finished and let the sentence hang in mid-air. I managed to gasp out a final string of words, "Do you-do you really think so?" She nodded slowly, tears flowing freely from her now. "I can guarantee it," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. I closed my eyes in bliss. So she thought even in death Legolas would still love me. I smiled my final smile, "Thanks," I whispered with effort. The darkness swallowed me and I knew nothing more.

* * *

Osellë reached forward to place a kiss on the dead woman's forehead. "Only you, Vénea," She whispered through her tears, "Only you."

* * *

In his room Legolas jerked awake suddenly. Something terrible had just happened, he could feel it… Memory came back to him suddenly and he looked around frantically for Venea. She was gone. Even as he thought it, he knew that it was true in more ways then one. A sob built up in his throat, but it seemed blocked there. He sucked in raggedy, hiccupping breaths around this constriction and belatedly noticed the note next to his hand. Reaching down slowly he picked it up and read it. A smile graced his face and he put the note down, laid his head oh his hands and wept.

The note read _'Until we meet again…'_

Twenty years later on and everything was finally ready. Legolas looked around him. Mirkwood was in blossom once more, trees rustled their farewells to their Prince and birds sang from every branch. The glory of his home had been restored and now it was time to leave the fate of the woods to men. Aragorn's reign was coming to an end, the King was old and Legolas had formed a pact with the rulers of the Undying Lands. Aragorn, Gimli, his two sons and Aswen and her family were to journey with him to the other side. Legolas could not wait to arrive. He knew who would be waiting there to see him, his mother, his father and _her_. The one he had been without for twenty years, but no longer. Today was the day, everyone was on board. With stars in his eyes shining brighter than any in the heavens Legolas cut the rope and the ship drifted off, away from the shore. "I'm coming, meleth-nin!" he called into the wind.

* * *

Patience has never been one of my virtues. I sat there on the shoreline of the Undying Lands to the West, surrounded by so many others waiting to welcome the new arrivals along with me. I grinned in anticipation, and squinted at the horizon, searching for any sign of sails. Seeing none, I sighed and was about to go and sit at the back of the group when that voice spoke to me again. "Not long now," it chimed, sounding amused, "not long now." I smiled slightly remembering what seemed to me to have happened only moments ago, but knowing how twisted time was here would probably have been about two hundred years ago knowing my luck. Contrary to what I had often thought before dying was absolutely no easier the second time round. When I had opened my eyes and seen the calm and tranquil walls of the Halls of Mandos I very nearly screamed. Gone were the ideas of death as my destiny and accepting my fate for the sake of everyone else. I had done the whole selfless thing, I said had said goodbye to everyone I had ever loved and now I was feeling a little badly done to and determined to take revenge on the only person I was sure would be here. That darned disembodied voice. "Hey, you!" I yelled, not caring about the astonished stares I received as my, admittedly piercing, voice broke the calm of these Halls. "I know you can hear me!" I continued, "So get yourself down here were I can…" I cut myself off just in time from saying 'see' you, because of course I couldn't and finished after only a slight delay, "hear you!" There was no response but then the logical side of me hadn't really been expecting one. At least not until I was a little more courteous. I gave a deep sigh and added reluctantly, almost in a mutter, "Please." There was a slight rush of air around me and a voice sounded next to my ear. "There, it didn't kill you to be a bit more polite, now did it?" said the voice. I raised an eyebrow, my murderous mood of before still lingering. "How would you know? Maybe it did." The voice gave what I perceived to be an un-amused harrumph. "I can see your sense of humour at the very least has not improved with time," it said sharply. Both eyebrows flew into my hairline at that comment. I hadn't realised spiritual beings were capable of sarcasm, but I continued undeterred. "No, well, my sense of humour wasn't really improved by discovering that I was actually supposed to have been dead. That's the kind of thing that can really upset a person. Now, I don't suppose it's possible that you forgot to fill me in on that SMALL FACT before you sent me back to somewhere I was NEVER SUPPOSED TO HAVE BEEN!" There was silence for a time as I collected myself and looked up slightly, the voice didn't have to say anything, I had already realised that my words of before had been unduly harsh. "Sorry," I apologised shortly, "It was not my place. I am grateful for what you did." There was still no reply and I was starting to fear that the Keeper of the Halls had abandoned me when I heard what sounded like a sob. I started in surprise. Was the voice actually crying? I paused a moment to consider it. Could a voice cry? I supposed that it could make the right noises, but to feel emotion? Was a voice capable of that? I thought emotion was all to do with the glands…I shook my head slightly, dragging myself out of those kind of thoughts. Thoughts like that could drive a girl mad. Regardless of the biology of the voice it seemed to be crying and that should be my foremost concern. I felt a sudden and horrible sense of guilt. "Look," I began hopelessly, "there's no real reason to fret. It was wrong of me to shout, I was just a little frustrated, that's all." There was another half-choked sob and the voice began again. "It's not that!" it snapped, "I'm used to people yelling, I hear it all the time, 'What do you mean, I'm dead?' and 'Are you kidding? I never thought the afterlife was some bleached hall! Where's all the beer?' though that is mainly from Dwarves. It's just that once I've moved people on they don't tend to come back. " I gave a kind of strangled half laugh. " Yeah, I tend to be annoying like that. But," I went on, a strange sense of regret forcing me to continue, "I never meant to really upset you. It was just that my last moments on Middle-Earth were rather emotional and that stress transferred straight from life to death and you're the only person here I know, so…" I trailed off and the voice gave a slightly more hopeful sniff. "So, I suppose it wasn't really my fault after all?" the voice asked, sounding even more hopeful. "No… not really…" I admitted slowly. The sniffing stopped altogether. "Excellent," came the voice. "So now we can finally get down to the business of moving you on?" I gave a horrified gasp. "Whoa, now," I protested in terror, "That's assuming a little too much isn't it?" The voice gave a slight sigh. "Don't worry," it amended, "I'm not asking you to anywhere you'll be without Legolas and your sons. If my timing is correct, they should be along shortly." My eyes became huge and I held up a hand immediately, "Stop, hold it right there! Let's go over this slowly… They can't die! I won't let them, okay? If this is all some stupid plot of theirs to see me again, you put a stop to it right now! Or better yet, send me back again. They will not get away with that!" The voice sounded as amused as a disembodied voice can sound, as it said, "I think not. Let's just send you on to the Undying Lands and see what happens when they get there shall we?" The tirade that had been about to burst from my lips fell short. "The Undying Lands?" I questioned incredulously. "Truly?" There was no reply from the voice but as I was whipped away, I caught a glimpse of trees and a voice drifted back to me with a sigh, "Always so impatient Vénea! They've been waiting to see you for twenty years."

I smiled slightly as I remembered. Ah, yes, twenty years had passed on Middle-Earth and now with the closing of the twentieth came my love on the boat to the Undying Lands. I grinned widely, I could only hope he was bringing Aswen, my sons, Aragorn and Gimli with him. It would be interesting to see what trouble we could stir up on these Western shores! And for the first time I caught a glimpse of white, a speck on the ocean, far, far away and a distant call reached my ears, "I'm coming, meleth-nin!" And so he was.

**In Meth **

(The End)

_I love you, like the sand loves the sea _

_I need you, like a bird needs the sky_

_I'll hold you close, I'll let you go free_

_A love like ours should never die_

_But when we reach the end of time_

_And the night is closing in_

_I won't let you go again, my love_

_And death will never win_

_**I Won't Let You Go Again – Vénea**_


End file.
